Seeds of Change
by Thazienne
Summary: Rose wanted nothing more than to never see her homeland, the Vast Swamp again. But fate will bring her to see the world in more dimensions than she ever thought possible.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **I don't own Forgotten Realms or anything that can be associated with it.

This is a story based mostly on an adventure known as A Tear in the Weave. I've run this adventure several times and enjoy it immensely. A few of the characters like Despayr and Tunaster have been borrowed and I have tried to keep them as near to there origins as possible. Feel free to review with praise, gripes, questions, cease and deceases, etc, etc, etc...

**Prologue: Schemes**

**_"The worst problem with most mages is that they want to change the world. The worst mistake the gods make is allowing a few of them to get away with it."_**

Tunaster Dranik winced as the green robed cleric wrapped his wounded arm.

"Mighty bad break there, must've been fighting Umberlee her herself," the green robed man joked.

"If I had to choose between her and ending up in the middle of trader's war in the middle of the Dragonmere I might have chosen her… at least she'd havea killed me instead lay my faith and everything on board in the hands of a novice shaman and pray to every god physically possible that we'd live to see the next sunrise," Tunaster cough which made his side hurt. Broken ribs too probably, he thought to himself solemnly.

"I wouldn't tempt her… neither would either of our Goddesses. Since our's know how to work together when necessary. Not in many of those big cities would you see a Mystran go to a temple of the Earthmother, huh," the cleric smiled as he soaked a few more strips of linens.

"Well, no offense to you or Chauntea but if there was a temple of Mystra nearby I would have gone there first," Tunaster said placing his left hand, practically the only part of him not aching on the infirmary cot he laid on and sat up.

"You didn't hit your head to did you, Tunaster," the cleric asked.

"No," Tunaster's black brows furrowed, "Why?"

"I would have thought the whole clergy of Mystra would have heard about the Temple of Mystra in Wheloon…"

Tunaster interrupted, "There's no Temple of Mystra in Wheloon."

The green robed cleric lifted a finger in mock protest, "There wasn't one in Wheloon until the Midwinter a few tendays ago."

"What," the Mystran exclaimed confused.

"A Lady of Mysteries Arthas, I think is her name, came to Lord Redbeard and pretty much made an offer he couldn't refuse then a few worker here a few spell there on an old citadel foundation to the north on the bank of the Wyvernflow and all of a sudden Wheloon is a three temple town."

Tunaster's face contorted more. He was a dedicated cleric of Mystra, one that had traveled and adventured throughout the heartland for the last few years mostly for information gathering but that had led to him being a person that was one of the first to here even the rumor of something as big as a new temple. Something didn't add up in his mind. "I've never met or heard of a Lady Arthas do you know where she is from?"

"The Mystrans pretty keep to themselves," the cleric shrugged, "And with them so far from the town proper, few of their clerics even come to the city, they even get supplies shipped in," The cleric whistled, "Must be a back by some pretty major coin."

If Tunaster's mind wasn't trying to work this puzzle together he would have taken offense to the undertone of the last comment but his thoughts were on how he would approach this situation and what he would report to his higher ups in the Tower of Mysteries in Saerloon. And probably more importantly when would he give them the information of what was happening. He was in no condition to try any kind of magic and his coin was confiscated by the 'traders'.

"You really didn't know about them," the cleric in green said mystified.

"No," Tunaster said ruefully, "But I will."

**_: : : : : :_**

The towering olive skinned male and a raven black braid shook his head as the circle of bandanna wearing, tattooed scoundrels lowered their faces from the huge gaping hole on the hull of caravel ship docked in near a warehouse close to a sign that reveal the road was known as Impil Street.

"Twas that big," a melodic voice rang from behind the troupe.

"Cap'n Veera," the taller man spoke as he practically bowed his head toward her, "I am sorry for not being able to stave off the attackers before any harm came to…"

"Ojas," she quietly spoke the large young man's name.

"Yes, Cap'n," he said running his hand absently along the hull.

"Shut up," she looked around at the shipmates and demanded, "What in the Nine Hells are y'all standin' round fer. We gotta find somewhere to bed down fer couple o' nights, we need some grub… good grub nonna that crap Horace been givin' us, and some damn good wine and we gotta find someplace to take," she fought back the emotion trying to rise in her throat, "The departed."

"Aye, aye," the all said in unison and started darting in multiple directions. Ojas turned and started walking toward ferry but was stopped by a small, cold hand from Veera.

"You did all you could… if it weren't for you we might all be with," Ojas could see the stars swelling in her eyes, "Arlas."

Ojas said nothing. There was nothing he could say. Arlas Stormsinger was more than a first class navigator and the man that taught him all he knew about the spirit realm but to Ojas he was like a father, though he had little idea what that meant since he never truly had a family until he found his way on the Blue Maiden half a dozen years ago. Veera even put up with his lack of skill as a green youth on the boat, she would even occasionally She was like a mother, albeit a boisterous and easily enraged mother but one all the same. Ojaswas just happy to be freed from his doomed life as a slave in Hlondeth to the snake-kin that ruled that land.

Nodding in agreement, Ojas said wrapping his arms around the woman that was at least a head smaller than him, "His spirit is still with us."

Running a hand in her dark hair, Veera agreed, "You'd know that fer any the rest of us, Ojie."

Ojas starred out to the Wyvernflow, "I'm going to find the bastards responsible and…"

"Ojie," Veer shook her head and lowered her voice, "We're smugglers… vengeance is meaningless. 'Fore the next new moon someone else'll wrong us… or we'll wrong someone else. Tis the nature of the high seas an' Arlas knew he would die in leviathan's belly… just as I know I'll. Tis the fate of all sea dogs."

Ojas wouldn't admit it out loud but he knew what she was saying was true. Still, deep in his aching heart he long for blood, for revenge.

"I'm goin' to stop by the new temple I've been hearin' bout," Veera faked a grin as she pulled out the seven star pendant on her gold necklace hiding under her off peach camisole, "Ain't often I get to visit a Mystran temple without locals trailing me."

Ojas smiled in agreement knowing she was doing it more for her departed love who should have been a priest of Mystra from how much he spoke of her. Ojas wonder for a moment how Veera worshipping a Goddess other than her once beloved Umberlee would fair her and her crew but Ojas shugged and told himself the faith was just self assurance… that was all it could ever truly be to him.

**_: : : : : :_**

The tall, skeletal woman paced in the hallway of the crumbling keep muttering under her breath to her dark mistress and just as her patience grew thin the dark outline of the creature she needed to speak with appeared from the shadows. She was finally pleased.

"I saw a young mage cast a cantrip this morning, Despayr," she said as her gray eyes peered up at the deep purple glow of a few of his scales outshining the dull gray ones on the beast standing nearly four times her height.

"I am sure you will learn the spell someday," the dark creature spoke as a whiff of ebon and purple smoke rose from his nostrils.

The woman glared as she clenched her fist, "There will be no need for me to when you have done what our Mistress has commanded you to. She has handpicked everything for you, even found this forgotten keep which happened to have a portal to the Shadow Plane. I doubt it was a coincidence… the ritual should have already been completed…"

"I need sacrifices, dark one," Despayr said slowly, "Ones that your brethren and sisters should have supplied me long ago."

"You have an entire tribe of lizardfolk," she began to argue.

"Most of which have been… converted… and are unsuitable. And most are not what I need either," Despayr said and stopped knowing it would aggravate the woman.

"And what is it you need… damn virgins. All the Hells know those are damn near impossible to come across these days…"

Despayr chuckled shaking the unstable land and causing a few of his illuminated scales to fade and then brighten stronger, "No, I need no virgins… yet," he smiled, "What I need, you should have known all along… it is why the first attempt failed." Stupid humans, the black dragon thought to himself and stand still keeping the dark haired woman in suspense.

"What?!" She screamed, "What did we miss, I personally deciphered the ritual myself are you saying I over looked something?"

The dragon shrugged enjoying having a brief amount of power over the woman that had single handedly bested him three months prior. Despayr thought then that his life was forfeited but the woman cease her magical rebukes and lashing strikes with her black whip that seemed to eat light and told him his glorious future... gave meaning to his dreary existence, his ambitions and his dreams, both literal and figurative. He was going to destroy the nature of magic of all of Toril and in the midst he was going to destroy the weave's Goddess as well. He would no longer be Despayr the Desperate, Despayr the Dim but he would forever be Despayr the Destroyer… he'd be a God.

"So, lizard," the woman taunted, "What is it? A date, a time, an ingredient… a missing incantation…"

"None of them," he said and flapped his large wings a few times for dramatic emphasis, "What you miss is exactly what you seek to destroy."

The woman blinked several times, "We need the weave?"

"We need weave casters… a lot of them… or a few powerful ones… I am unsure as to exactly how many are necessary…"

"How many do you want," the woman became very business-like.

Despayr smiled, "How many can we get?"

The woman grinned mischievously, "My followers will take care of this… I will instruct them to feed you flies until the seam of your belly scales burst."

Despayr shook his head, "It is not my belly which shall burst but very Weave of Toril which shall," the deep violet crystal tied around his neck dance as he chuckled and disappeared in the darkness.


	2. Seeds of Change

**A/N: **I don't own Forgotten Realms or anything that can be associated with it.

**Chapter One: Seeds of Change**

The month of Ches, 1376DR,

_The Year of the Bent Blade_

"_**There's nothing unnatural about magic. Magic ebbs and flows**_

_**through the very earth where you stand, the air that your breathe,**_

_**and the water that you drink. A fire has some magic of its own,**_

_**as I'm sure you'll agree when it warms you on a cold day or cooks**_

_**your food."**_

—_Altherion Duniiloli, arcane hierophant_

Primrose clutched her knees into her chest as she pressed her back into the ancient tree that swayed in the frigid wind circling the bog land trying to compel the tears dammed behind her eyelids to retreat.

"What bothers you so, earth kin," a voice from nowhere and everywhere spoke. A gentle motherly voice that Rose had come to know and enjoy for more than three quarters of her brief life, even her first vivid memory was of the quiet morning more than a decade ago first hearing the tallest and eldest tree of the Vast Swamp speak to her and though she had only seen four winters then she smile and knew this was something most special. Though she had grown into a young woman, to that night the tree seemed to tower over the relentless fog that constantly rolled from the south and the Thunder Peaks that loomed overheard to the North. "It is too early for spring's tears… what brings us so much sorrow, seedling."

Primrose shook her head, "I'm…" she sighed, "I'm never going to see you again, Jannath." The girl murmured the name she and the tree agreed to use for the twisted, gray and black willow tree that sat on one of the few patches of workable soil in the swamp many moons past. It was also Rose middle name. She had convinced herself that it was the best name to give the tree at her young age then… now it seemed a bit silly but the tree insisted that she keep that name.

"Where shall the one that the Earthmother herself sings to be forced to go… who spoke such foolishnesses," the tree's leaves ruffled loudly.

"All of the… the whole circle… they all agreed… I heard them," she said gasping for breath, "When Selune's watching from high peaks of the starry sea… they want me gone… probably forever."

"You are sure of this, seedling," Jannath said in her monotone manner.

"Yes," Rose screamed and slammed her back into the willow tree for emphasis then shivered, "It's…. it's not my fault I'm possessed."

"Seedling, I know not all that goes on in the earth kin's groves but I can see that your roots are your own…. You are no more possessed then the moon or the sun," the tree branched wave to the night sky.

Rose frowned, "But you are… that's what Graunor tells me. That is why I'm not supposed to come near to you."

"You are of his very branches, seedling… his very acorn that he wishes to protect. Many see me as," the tree paused seeming to sigh, "It is truth that I am not normal. But if the one who speaks to the paths truly wished to keep the one who the Earthmother sings to away from me he could have and would have many moons past. The one whose very pollen courses in you is much more than you see him as, he shades you and you cannot see what truly crowns him."

There was a long silence as Rose stared at her hands, "I made one of them… smaller," she confessed reliving the scene again in her mind. Her face grew hot, her dirty hands clenched and without thinking a power raced from the very core of her. The thing that she believed that lived inside of her and made accidents constantly happen around her had once again made itself known. But it was the first time it had attacked anyone in the Circle. She had made plants grow larger and smaller by touching them before even had commanded a group of vines to twist around the dying corpse of a lizardfolk in a sinkhole and had once made a bat she befriended grow in size most of this could be explained away as her talent with druidic magic… but never had she even thought her possessed touch could affect people, something completely outside of the gifts of the Earthmother.

"I was aware," Jannath said casually, "A mother raven told me about a very plump nightcrawler she had tried to capture only to be hit repeated by the worked limbs of my fallen kin."

Not catching or not caring about the jest the girl continued, "I got mad… some of the warriors, Graunor's men, where joking in their dirty tent about me," her face grew red and the tree's root danced beneath the ground for a moment, "about when I became… bigger," a vicious grin came over her face, "So I made him smaller… so he wouldn't have to wait."

The tree seemed to smile, "Good reason to become angry but when a snake coils around my branches the best to rid myself of it is to let it alone… you should have tried to calm yourself like you've been practicing."

Rose stood up, still with her back turned and dug her fingers into Jannath, "I'm tired of controlling it… ignoring everything, the voices I her in caves, the dreams I see at night and even the urges to use it like this morning. It makes me feel…"

"Whole," Jannath finished, "But what happens if someone is hurt."

Rose released her fingers and crossed her arms defiantly and saying nothing she shook her head from side to side trying to free something from her shoulder length brown hair.

"Earthmother save you… you are a druidess of the Darkflow Circle," Jannath spoke still in her monotone but some sentiment could be felt in her voice. "You cannot always use your power as you see fit, seedling."

"What would you know about power, Jannath. You just stand there all the time… you wouldn't know what to do with power like I have. And they are just barbarians, my father's men and they deserved it… they're just weeds, choking life wherever they go with their damn steel blades and bloodlust… I don't know why my circle even let's them stay here," Rose said as her light brown eyes flared.

It was Jannath's turn to stand speechless.

"And Darkflow Circle laws states that magic used to pervert nature is punishable by death… even if it's magic used on of some Vaasan animals dressed up as men," Rose grated her teeth, "They didn't deserve to be here, why doesn't my circle just use the spells of the Earthmother to protect their home… not those stupid inbreed, backwoods fleabags."

Astutely Jannath said, "Those whom live in the carved stone see you the same way."

Rose glared but could offer no argument. She had visited a few cities, the nearby towns of Daerlun and Wheloon on errands for the Circle and also Saerloon during the last Greengrass festival and hated a great many things about them. The worked stone was almost silent as if every breath of life was removed from it. Large homes stood high into the sky and pressed closer than the bark on Jannath and filled the air with smoke from their canopies known as chimneys and blocked the view of the very stars at night. The people in the city looked at her as if she were an oddity even though they were the odd ones in their feral clothing in more colors than the druid ever seen in the rainbows of spring just after a sudden shower through the thick fog.

"They're just stupid," Rose spat.

Jannath sighed, "Even those of the Tower you were glowing about… you even spoke all day about it a few days ago."

Rose shivered as a wave of frozen air raced across the forest, "It was decent. Since I was there this place has seemed like a… jail, I am told where I can't go and with whom… how to dress and act, what to eat. At least in Saerloon I'd have freedom over my own ordeals." She remembered the large building of stone with all the carved beasts that looked over the city in silence but unlike the most the 'civilized world' there was still a hum of life within the cobble of the spiraling temple… not the life song that Rose could here in the swampland or the caves in the Thunder Peaks but it was something. She had even been giving the chance to show off her druidic touch on an ailing Blueleaf tree that resided in the heart of the expansive garden, one that even rivaled the much larger but for more tainted one in Daerlun devoted to the Goddess of Love, Sune. She still had dreams of seeing the steams of… what she had come to call… magic… all around and within it.

Jannath seemed to laugh as the willow's leaves danced, "And you carried here a handful of new words and those books you are always reading."

"And if I have," Rose defended herself as she rubbed the deep purple stone on grimy bronze clasp that hung on the end of her twine rope necklace that seemed to have collected very grain of dirt since she received it nearly two years ago, "I have learned more about the Earthmother from the books Misses Moonfire gave me last year then I did in the 15 years here with these… self-righteous know-it-alls."

"Then why didn't you stay," the tree asked as a small white owl landed on one of her lower branches. Rose frowned looking forward into the thick fog.

The owl hooted as a deep voice spoke from the darkness of the stagnant fog, "I didn't let her," it informed.

Rose turned her head and started to murmur a spell as she touched the stone on her necklace but dropped her hands as the tall man walked into the moonlight. He was much taller than the girl as most people were but they still resembled one another. Deep brown hair both cut crudely around the shoulder and light brown almond shape eyes on sharp faces with sturdy chin and full lips. The leathery skin surrounding his lips were covered with long stubble, which was uncommon for the Circle's huntsmen and gave away the fact that something preoccupied his thoughts.

"That's right you didn't…" Rose paused then looked at the tree than to her father who walked closer to her, "Did you…. hear her?"

Her father nodded.

Jannath spoke after a long awkward pause, "Your father and I have known one another for… well from when he was about your age. Before I was," Jannath sighed, "brittle with so much age." The man's bald head dipped low and rose in agreement.

Rose's eyes grew large then filled with first confusion then with rage, "You're a damned liar," she spat venomously.

He shrugged, "Those tomes are doing you well it seems."

She ignored his insult, "You've broken the Earthmother's laws as much as I have."

"The laws of the Darkflow Circle are not the same as from our Mother of Earth but one from our pack to keeps us… the Circle has to protect their own from themselves this is a land filled with dangers and wonders most of which are not natural. Most people wouldn't need to be demanded of such things," he sighed, "But it seems common sense or obedience is something that you will ever be willing to learn."

"Go swim in the lakes of Cania," she spat, "I obey those that deserve it… I listen to the Earthmother, the one that sows and reaps away your petty power."

"And that is why you continue your obsession with trying to make life yourself, Primrose," he said. Rose looked and noticed that he held a large pack on his shoulder. He worked the straps off, "I went through your belongings and…"

"You have no right… those are…" she screamed loudly. Yet another law that the she hated… but one that could bring anything from bugbears to kobold or even undead stumbling toward her and her father getting either or both killed without the aid of the circle's four dozen strong warriors.

"You might think that making a bogun is fun but… "He looked at the great tree, "But all magics carry grave consequences."

Jannath remained quiet.

Rose crossed her arms, "I was researching how it was done… I hadn't decided to do it or not, Graunor." She said making her father grimace. "And the tome about Chauntea," he grimaced again as she used the Earthmother's cultivated name, "say nothing against it either… in some of her temples it is common practice."

"You are no more a cleric than I am a scholar, Primrose," he said standing tall his brown eyes search over girl that had always been curious about everything but had never thought she would so blatantly turn away from the ways he had taught her, "You have many… talents that need to be pruned, my child… on branches that not only can I not reach but I cannot even fathom where to begin to cut."

"You think I'm possessed too," she said cross.

"No," he chuckled, "There would be no room in that thick head of yours for anything else to fit. But that stubbornness has caused the elders…"

"Which you are one of," she reminded him.

"Yes… we decided it would be best for you…" he swallowed a moment then continued, "To leave the land of the Darkflow until a time when you were… ready to accept the oath of our forebearers…"

The tears raced down her face slowly as a dark cloud barricaded Selune's sight of the father with his only child, "You're getting rid of me… are you sacrificing me to one of your scalyfolk friends or just tossing me in the Dragonmere."

Graunor bite his lip, "Neither," he said patiently as she wiped the tears off her cheeks trying to give impression she was together, "Magdalene Moonfire has been… in contact with me…"

"And your neck," she spat as she tried to shake the image of the pale marks across his neck she noticed a few months ago when he had claimed he went on a long scout toward the mountains.

Graunor did all he could to fight back the crimson on his face as he continued, "She wants you to stay at the Tower of Mysteries, the temple that is devoted to the Goddess of Magic…"

"Mystra," she said interrupting him to show she had remembered.

"Aye," he sighed again, "She thinks… that you are not only blessed from the Earthmother and who could argue your elder earth hands all speak of how easily you have grasp the ways of the Earthmother but you possess the skill of weve the Art as well."

"The Art," she laughed, "I've never even tried to use magic, I wouldn't even know where to start."

He nodded in agreement, "I know… but what you did today… and the odd things that happen around you prove that you could easily if you were trained to do so."

"Magic," she mumbled. She had seen a few of the druids that helped her learn some of the subtle skills she had acquired like hearing and understand the thoughts of plants and animals and follow tracks as well distinguishing the ones not to follow and how to move without making any of her own. But they never used 'real' magic like she heard in the tales that Jannath told her. They didn't make fire comes from the skies or call upon creatures from the outer planes. No, they just babble at making campfires and quieting a raging beast… they taught her nothing special.

"How do you think you are able to read those tomes, Primrose," he asked.

"I have been taught to read since I could practically walk… remember, I still take lessons from the lady that lives in Daerlun when she comes to trade," she said defiantly.

"Yes, those are words of this age… those tomes are written in languages from ages passed… most use magical characters that even I don't..." he paused not allowing his emotions to show.

Rose's eye furrowed, "I don't care if I can cast spells like Fae'run has never seen… I'm never abandoning my oath to the Earthmother," she asked as her hand ran along Jannath.

Graunor face remained a mask as he sat her leather pack on the ground, "I am sure that Madi will be able to help you learn to balance both your gift and your Art." Then as quickly as he had appeared he turned and left. The owl hooted and flew into the void he dissolved into.

**_: : : : : :_**

Tunaster's arm still hurt as he hid in a dark corner of the alleyway he ran into. Covering his mouth he listened for the heavy footstep of the steel toed boots of the men who trailed him. Men that were supposed to believe in the same Goddess of him but it was obvious they were kept some type of secret… something that dealt with a ritual of coronation into the faith known as Mystra's Sacred Trust. The Goddess of the Weave was indeed a mystery, Tunaster knew this from firsthand experience and he even knew that it would take him a lifetime to even learn a microcosm of the obscurities of his beloved goddess but something in his stomach turned when he met the fellow Mystran cleric, Starweaver Fembrys… another cleric he had never met in his dedicated life as a Mystran follower.

If I wasn't still ailing I'd have no knowledge than they even have of themselves, he thought to himself, but that would have to wait a while. But he knew he might not have a while to rest on his own recovery…. And reluctantly he turned out of the dead end, followed the coble road into the Lantern Inn, hoping against hope that he could find some people he could trust and that were brave even… and foolish enough to gather the information he would need to take to those that he had to ultimately answer to.

"Mystra, grant me strength," he prayed as he slipped into the Inn and found a writing table and began making a vague notice.


	3. Entwined

**A/N: I don't own anything associated with Forgotten Realms.**

Targaryen Muse: Thanks for the reviews... I hope they I can keep the story interesting.

**Chapter Two: Entwined**

**_"The feet of ice is rarely the result of one day of freezing weather."_**

_Ches, 1376DR_

Rose feet stumbled as her hand pressed weakly against the wooden door to the building with a rotting sign revealing that it was The Last Chance Inn. If she wasn't wet, hungry, tired and aching in places she had never known about from her two day journey through the dark passes and sink holes of the swamp, she would have chuckled at the name. It was really a traveler's last chance for secure rest before handing away from city of Daerlun along the Way of the Manticore to town of Wheloon that sat at the edge of Cormyr on the Wyvernflow River the emptied out into the Dragonmere. The Way of the Manticore into Cormyr this time of year meant trouble due to the likelihood of Vast Swamp tribesmen trying to gather food and provisions that would have been depleted during the frozen months and Rose had enough of them already. Thankful to have gotten out of the foggy bog in one piece without running across one of the warring lizardfolk tribes, she praised the Earthmother for not getting entangled in the middle of one of their fights over a decaying bridge or some trail of soggy land. She flopped into a chair with uneven legs and nearly tumbled to the ground which gave way to a chorus of heckles from the stub of a man behind a counter covered in glass bottles and framed with wooden kegs and a majority of the half dozen patrons… all except one. Rose stared at the man in a deep red armor, almost the color of blood itself and a green hooded cloak that fleck with bright lines in places the morning sun hit just right. He merely sipped the dark drink in his mug without a sound; he didn't even change his blank stare out of the dirty window that revealed the edge of the Vast Swamp across the trampled pathway. Rose shook her head trying to remove the image of his eyes, those gray speckled eyes that seemed to pierce her thoughts and burrow into her very soul.

"Whatcha want, 'sides a bath," a slender woman said as she stood with her hand on her hip.

"Umm… I don't know… I'm really tired," Rose said rubbing her temple.

The woman rolled her eyes, "Ya ain't too bright huh."

Rose started to protest.

The woman just spoke louder, "Bed'll cost ya ten steelpenses… cause Tymora herself ain't gonna bet on ya not stinkin' up the joint."

Rose's heart sank. Steelpenses, she thought to herself then remembered reading about currency in one of the tomes she had in her pack. She reached for it to see if she had anything that was close to a 'steelpense'.

The woman grumble and shook her head into her hands, "Ya got coin or ain't cha… if ya ain't den ya best be on ya merry lil' way. We ain't got time fer nona ya freeloadas."

Rose's eyes welled with tears as she bite the inside of her lower lip then for the corner of her eye a five sided object flew across the room and landed on the table coming to a complete stop in front of the woman.

"That will cover whatever she needs, Sweet Cheeks," the cloaked man said still emotionless, glaring out the window and sipping whatever was in his mug.

The woman snatched the coin grumbling under her breath, "Ya want some gruel, Princess."

"Be nice," the man said without looking at the woman, "You might end up getting a tip for once."

The woman frowned, "I'll show ya yer room… and hurry up, ain't like the drunks gonna get their own friggin' mead."

: : : : : :

Rose sat crossed legged on the scratchy old blanket the lay crook on the rickety bed that sat along the wall that was adjacent from the door. Along the wall to the right of the door was a large black tub which she had leaped into spilling several handfuls of the aged water and scrubbed the grim off herself then dried off with the sheets that had been placed on the bed and found her only change of clothes in her bag, a green and brown robe made of wool but was lined with something that kept the elements off her skin, she assumed it was cured crocodile skin… everything in her Circle was made of it. This was followed by a visit from 'Sweet Cheeks' who cursed as she sat a bucket of heating coals under the tub and glared at Rose before slamming the door announcing her departure. Rose had a tome that revealed the recent history of land of Sembia, hoping to learn as much as she could about the land that lay on the eastern side of the Thunder Peaks.

The sound of the door creaking open snapped her head upward as she started to murmur a spell under her breath that she had learned from her druid mistress that would call upon the roots from beneath the inn and the vines running along it to ensnare the intruder then she stopped as her brown eyes meet the depthless gray speckled ones of the green cloaked man. She didn't take a breath for several moments making her clammy skin blanche.

"You look much prettier cleansed," he stopped at the corridor as he stroked his hairless chin, "I seemed to have forgotten your name."

Rose's head tilted confusedly, "But I never told you my name."

The man smiled and nodded, "Yes, it is what those from overpopulated cities consider a joke."

"Oh," Rose smiled also, "I am Rose of…" then she stopped, "Daerlun," she lied. She had no reason to not to tell him she saw from the swamplands but for some reason she felt she be considered a lesser person if she weren't from somewhere 'civilized' like he gave the impression of hailing from.

"I wasn't aware that there was a city that sat in the middle of a swamp," he said as he sat at the table that lined the wall to the left of door.

"I… well… how do you know I from the lands of the Darkflow," she finally demanded.

He shrugged, "Intuition… you have the scent of one of swamp dwellers… must be why I am drawn toward you."

A cold shiver raced up Rose's spine, "If you want me to give you what you gave the lady back I can maybe offer you something I brought from my travels or maybe I could once I get a hold of a…" she paused trying to picture what he had tossed the cranky bar wench.

He smiled, "A golden fivestar… do you know it is worth, Rose of Daerlun."

She glanced at the book then looked at the man and shook her head from side to side.

"A good months work," he said and Rose grimaced, "Of unskilled work. You on the other hand look as if you are most gifted indeed. Tell me, where did you study in Daerlun?"

"Study," she asked quietly.

"Don't be frank," his wide jagged nose flared, "I can smell the magic on you. It wades through your very hair. You must have been trained by someone and I need to know who," he stood up from the table.

"I… I… I…" she stammered as his black ankle high boots tapped the wooden floor slowly striding toward her, "I don't even know how to use magic… I'm just… just going to the Tower of Mysteries to learn how… maybe… I hope."

The man stopped a few paces in front of her still not blinking.

"I'm telling the truth… I promise."

"I know," he said quietly, "You don't appear to be a very practiced liar."

Rose's heart raced. The man had done nothing truly menacing aside from not blinking once that she had notice nor had he even as much as threatened her but something about him made her hair, that he had seemed to smell though he never came within arm's length of her, stand up on her neck… she wriggled her nose nervously and noticed his weird odor like that of yeasting mold which she knew intimately growing up in a swamp.

"I would be grateful if you could perform a favor for me… an important one," the man asked.

Rose swallowed then asked, "Can I hear the favor before I agree to it?"

The green cloaked man grinned from ear to ear under his rounded hood, "A wise proposition Rose of Daerlun," he reach in a pouch on his belt and pulled out a gray bag no bigger than Rose's hand and much smaller than the man's, "I need this delivered to somebody that you should be able to find in Saerloon… he might even reside at the Tower itself."

"What do you need done- I don't know how to kill anyone," Rose warned.

"Just a coin, my dear Rose, just a simple little coin," he smiled revealed the five sided coin and continued, "A man made a scroll for me a while ago and I never got to repay him… a goblin advance looming in the horizon can throw even my plans into shambles."

"Oh… doesn't sound like a month's worth of work," Rose protested.

"But it would be for me… I am heading to Cormyr to meet someone very dear to me and it would further delay my arrival there seeing as ships won't run there for at least another month, at least ships captained by trustworthy folk like you and I," he smiled again, "I mean you look like a girl the holds honesty in high regard. I doubt you would spend someone else hard earned coin like some of those vultures in the city."

"No, I wouldn't," she agreed.

He reached into belt pouch pulled out a larger as he said, "I need something else also… something I know you can do very well."

Rose nodded waiting patiently for him to continue.

"I need a book read… it is shrouded in magic and I am… well a simple woodsmen, Mystra's touch eludes me," he said.

Rose smiled nervously, "I guess so… I think I can do both. But I think I forgot your scroll writer's name."

The man grinned under his hood catching her attempt at humor, "Korlim Husteem… you sure you are not studying to become a King Azoun's royal jester."

: : : : : :

The Lantern Inn was what it was; an old boathouse with an aging plank board, two story dwelling attached to it and held a green roof, a common sight in Wheloon, seated on the western bank of the small city. Tunaster would have preferred to board in the Wyvern Watch Inn, a much nicer place, with far fewer scoundrels and far more women… even the co-owners were daughters of the famed Buldegas Mhaerkoon who claimed to own a deed to land in every reach of Cormyr, though if you ask to see them all he would begin a long story that would lead nowhere until you either gave up or forgot or both. Tunaster's eyes circled the room to see if anyone was looking around for someone but all that the Lantern held were the group of 'merchant sailors' that he had had the joy of coming to the border of Cormyr with.

"Tunaster," a low, thrumming voice bellowed from a corner.

The tall, black haired young man that he had befriended on the Blue Maiden known as Ojas held up a mug and waved for him to come join him. Reluctantly the cleric sauntered across the room and pulled up a creaky seat at the table the navigation assistant was sitting at alone.

"Good ale," Tunaster asked as he rested his sky blue gloved hands on the table.

"No," the broad shouldered shipman held up the mug, "But at least the mug is clean… mostly."

Tunaster smiled. Ojas was the complete opposite of what he had ever thought a man that grew up on the high seas would be. Articulate and cultured, he seemed to swim against the stereotypical attributes of a sailor, although he was as good a shipmen that Tunaster had meet… and he was unfortunate enough to have met more than he had ever liked to.

As a dagger flew passed the ear of the cleric, Tunaster lowered his head and searched the room only to hear the cacophony of laughs encircling him, "I'm surprised that that Captain Wavecrest allows such boorish behavior."

"She doesn't," Ojas said more into his mug than toward the cleric, "We haven't seen Veera since we boarded up here two nights ago after you went to vist your temple… I'm starting to get," the man paused as he clenched his jaw, "Concerned."

Tunaster's heart stalled. If the captain was gone after he was ready to leave he would have to find a less convenient way to get to Saerloon. Tunaster nodded as he replied, "May the Lady guide her path…"

Much quicker than the build of the man would suggest possible, Ojas threw the glass mug done and reached for the collar of the cleric's white robe, "I don't want to hear about your damn goddess' protections… what in the Nine Hells did your people to do with her?"

Tunaster's furrow scrunched, "I'm not sure what you are talking about, Ojas… but I am not your foe," he said as his hand wormed into a pocket in his robe concealed from the big man's view by the table.

"She went to the temple in the north… the temple of your goddess and none of us have seen her sense. Then, coincidently some guy with the initials T.D. starts postings about need those with strong arms and keen minds. I may not have taught all the little things you were in your damn temple growing up," Ojas released one of his hands and ran it against the side of his face on a scar the snaked up from the bottom of his jaw to the base of his ear in an 'S' shape, "But I have been double crosses more times that I want to think about."

"Listen," he pleaded as he grabbed the cold metallic handle of the item in his pocket, "I wouldn't do anything to your Captain she's," he gasped as Ojas' grip tightened even with a single hand gripped on the cloak. The cleric began to mutter a prayer, Ojas dragged the cleric across the table and wrapped his thick arms around the neckline of his cloak. The cleric gargled out the rest of the prayer as his silver and blue symbol fell on the table. The room filled with a brilliant light, then out of desperation Tunaster kneed the larger man in the chest breaking the sailor's grip on him and tumbled to the ground on all fours.

Suddenly as the cleric crawled, stars danced in front on him in the burst of white light, while his palms found an upright surface then he change direction and moved along the wall with haste trying to find an exit. The sailor belted of a string of words in a tongue that even the cleric had never heard and was hit with a blast of wind knocking him into the door he was desperately looking for. He grimaced as he grabbed his side but before he could recover and race toward the doorway a blast of blue light crashed into his chest sending him through the Inn door and out into the street. Tunaster rolled to his side and saw the braid of the olive skinned big man bounce toward him. The cleric stood limply and looked around for a way to escape then saw a small drain that he figured lead into the sewage line. The big man raised his hands and started to cry out again, Tunaster did what came naturally to him, he reached done in his pocket and started to chant a spell that would counter the coming spells affects but stopped as the sailor's spell nearly was completed noticing his focus was gone. Tunaster gulped and dove to the ground hoping the spell would be aimed at him alone and not another blast of wind. A huge bolt of lightning danced down from the gray clouds and fell to the cobble but missed the cleric, landing in a nearby crowd of standing over a cart selling goods.

The sailor cursed, "Tunaster, the spirits of those you have wronged with come back to haunt you," then he spirited toward the cleric. With a nimbleness that he never seemed to muster in ordinary times, the Mystran pounced up to his feet and dashed to the drain, barely squeezing into the slit.

"Tunaster Dranik," the sailor continued his threats, "I will find Veera and when I find out your wrong doings I am going to personally make sure you are taken care of… you may be able to hide from me, but you cannot hide from the spirits that walk the earth."

Tunaster exhaled as the sound of the big man's heavy feet stomped away then he turned in the darkness and stumbled face first into the stewing waste. "This is what I deserve for enlisting the aid of smugglers," he grimaced as the adrenaline from the chase left and pain from his sides and arm raged.

"You are T.D… the one looking for people to raid the false Temple," a quiet voice spoke from the shadows.

"I am," Tunaster spoke trying to retain some semblance of dignity, "and you would be."

"Just someone that needs you as much as you need me," he said as he spoke a command word and a metallic stick in the shape of a torch blazed to life reveling his black hood, maks, cloak and leathers, "Follow… have much to discuss before we can make the Wyvernflow run red with the blood of those that call themselves followers of Mystra."

The cleric started to object but the light flickered away as the black garbed person slide his feet away in the middle of the disgusting muck, "Where are we going," he finally said as he caught up to the torch wielder.

"Somewhere quiet," he said calmly, "Keep your eyes open, there are many… beings that make their home down here with me."

: : : : : :

Rose stumbled in the rented room well after dark with a ringing from the crown of her head to the base of her neck and although she was exhausted she had stopped to thank the Earthmother for her guidance in the last few days and prayed to her as she had set a few seeds at the side of Inn before returning to her rented room. She wondered if the bag of silver coins she had received was worth the day long task of studying and then transcribing the text in the leather bound tome she had been told was just an old volume of little meaning to those that aren't interest in ancient lore.

Rose found it fascinating. It spoke about a temple of a Cult that worshipped a Demoness only mentioned as the Fungi Queen and a plot for her piecemeal essence to be completely restored and plans to return to Faerun for revenge. Rose considered it folklore like those Jannath would tell her… filled with half truths here and there but mostly just exaggerations and lies so blatant that not even a child would truly believe it. Rose positioned herself across the scratchy bed, stomach down and poured the silver coins on the bed and methodically counted all twenty five of them hoping that that would be enough to get her to Saerloon. She hoped she would get a chance to stop by tutor's home to tell her about her plight but with spending the whole day doing the green cloaked man's errand and then the beginning of a thunderous storm she figured she might lose more days than she wished to and if she didn't see her before she found a caravan out of Daerlun then she would just have to do so another time. She really didn't relish the idea of spending too much time in the City of Love to begin with.

A flash of lightning startled her as the hail outside the window began to tickle the old panes.

"Earth Mother watch over me," Rose prayed out loud as her door creaked open slowly.

The woman that greatly resembled her hostess from the morning stood in the doorway but seemed much more pleasant, especially given the conditions outside threatening her investment. "You might want to stay away from the windows, dear," she waved her hand to the doorway, "Heard you just stumbled into the Last Chance, want to come over and give me a little company not many females really come here… not many that seem like the type I'd have a gratifying conversation with."

"I… ummm…" Rose blinked a few times then shut her mouth, stood up and tilted her head examining the woman.

"Oh, you must have met my little sister Chloe, eh," she smiled and held her hand as Rose walked forward as another clap of thunder followed suddenly by a flash of lightning. Rose's hand shuddered as it flew into the taller woman's. "I'm Claire. Claire Arvinsen and you don't look mighty fond of storms."

"Storms are fine… it's the lightning that I don't really enjoy… where I come from it can be a death sentence," Rose said starring at the blue-green eyes of the taller, slender woman.

"I wasn't aware that lightning was more dangerous in Cormyr," Claire said innocently.

"It is not," Rose began then caught on, "Just that my family didn't live inside we were ummm…"

"Travelers," Claire finished, "Were y'all lodger or something."

"Yeah," Rose mumbled as they stumble side by side through the corridor leading into the common area which had transformed into a rowdy tavern nearly packed with a couple of dozen patrons. All of them were wet, drunk or getting drunk while drying off.

"We get a lot of people here that work on the land… trackers, lodgers, hunters, Folk heading to the stock market with their herds, y'know the whole lot," Claire ran her hand on the crown of Rose's head, "So I guess it'll feel like home to you, eh?"

Rose nodded quietly as she easily pictured the disorderly assembly in leathers most of which were brandishing weapons in drunken stupor filled with pride and cheap ale… it wasn't very hard to disassociate and see it did look exactly as her homeland had. Deep down Rose knew she never had hated living in the Vast Swamp, although it was extremely dangerous and not too appealing to most, the thing she disliked most was that the males of her Circle outnumbered the women ten to one easily and she was the youngest one with the nearest female in age being old enough to be here mother.

Another blast of lightning seemed to crash nearby as the light of the bolt and the rumble of the thunder appear almost in accord and filled the tavern with a brief moment of silence, "Milil's mighty melody," gasped Claire.

Rose's eyes looked up and saw a tear roll down the taller woman's face "Is something the matter," she asked quietly.

Claire wiped her eyes and noticed her patron's mugs were emptying, "No, just worried about my brother out in this storm is all," she lifted a pair of trays graceful, filled one with a mugs topped off with a foamy golden liquid unknown to the brown eyed girl and started weaving between the round tables of the room.

Rose's eyes followed the slender woman as she slide passed wrestling patrons, and how she would placed the formerly empty tray on a table without spilling a drop from the heavier tray then neatly pile the emptying mugs on the first and remove fresh mugs from the second. She performed the actions effortlessly, as if it were just a natural as walking or breathing. Her smiling, cheerful nature seemed to keep most of the stranded patrons at ease though some seemed touch her much more than Rose would have been more comfortable with. Claire just gave them a smile… even kissed one of the much older ones on his ashy, wrinkled forehead.

As the mug balancer returned to her bar, Rose stood up and grabbed a mug and helped start to wash them.

"You are really good at that," Rose said still in amazement.

"What," Claire said as she primped the pump that released water from the metal snake known as a pipe.

"Carry those mugs and being nice to," Rose closed her eyes trying to hide her disdain, "Those people."

"They're good folk, they can get a bit loud and rowdy but y'know they're much like snakes… easily charmed by a melodious voice a few supple movements," Claire grinned as she wiggled her body in the same way a snake would.

"Oh," Rose said not fully understanding but guessed that it was like how she was told to capture flies… easier with honey than brute force. "Why are you so worried about your brother?" Rose asked bluntly and to the point.

"Chloe found his horse wondering around the Inn and with a bunch of odd wounds… it's a mighty smart horse so only Oghma himself might know when Copper dismounted him but he'd put his life in the way of an arrow to save his horse from coming to harm," Claire said starring at the trickle of water in the basin.

"Where is his horse at now," Rose asked as she set a mug down.

"In the stable," Claire said confused, "Why, Dear?"

"I'm going to see if I can find anything out about your brother," Rose said as she raced to the corridor and ran out into the storm toward the stable.


	4. Evasion Tactics

**A/N: I don't own anything associated with Forgotten Realms.**

**Chapter Three** **"Evasion Tactics"**

"There is no greater wisdom than from listening to the still small voice within you that tells you when you need to run."

Korlim sat legs crossed with his steel eyes ensorcelled on the raging fire crackling before him and avoided looking at the copper haired young woman that had practically curled her long body into a ball near the flames less than an hour ago. He had been lucky that the storm had slowed her and that her ineptness in the wilderness had finally caught up to her allowing him to finally overtake her.

"Would have been wiser for you to wait for a caravan from Daerloon, Danae," he muttered. The woman muttered dreamily.

Korlim unveil a map from his scarlet robes thankful the parchment was covered in vellum and more so extolled Kossuth for his spell on the campfire which had held true not allowing it to burn out as it naturally would have from the tempestuous elements. He looked at the markings and tried to find their position then judging from his limited knowledge of the area figured that they were in the no man's land between the Wyvernflow and Darkflow River, of course he had no idea exactly where. He frowned as he came to the logical conclusion that their best chance of survival would be heading to the nearest town and out of the torrential rain shower.

"Wheelon," the gray robe man said as he stood up slowly, "damn the gods, the noble girl seems to always get her way."

Nearly a tenday ago the his apprentice, now the soaking, shivering red ball had dreamt of a large black orb surrounding the insignificant village and had tried to convince anyone with ears to try to find out what was happening. The leaders of the Tower of Mysteries, the temple they both resided at, had attempted to see any troubles in the city but nothing showed, nothing was out of the ordinary as far as the diviners could surmise.

The redheaded apprentice didn't stop though and after a daring escape from the temple grounds with the aid of several of the temples precious artifacts had tracked her way along the trade routes to Wheelon.

The alarm spells the mage had placed nearby broke his concentration and mouthing quietly as he placed his hand in a pouch the hung on a leather strap around his waist over his water logged crimson robe with an embroidered flaming jade feathered bird across the back. As he finished his calling a long glimmering chain emerged from his pouch and snaked into his palms and the mage slowly stood up.

"Danae," he whispered as his muddy feet tapped the young women's side.

"Go away Amory… go play with… yourself…" she muttered as she rolled away.

Out of the corner of the chain wielder's eye he saw a silhouette scurry from several large bushes to his side leaving a large shadow stretched across the ground from the fire and covering to sleeping redhead.

"Danae, get up now if you wish to continue to dream of whatever you noble children revel in all night," he shouted figuring the he had no chance of not attracting attention with his fire nearby.

The red haired girl's green eyes blinked drearily, "Master Husteem, I'm still…" the woman's eyes blazed open as the black figures raced past her and circled her master.

The bald chain wielder turn his wrist and flicked one end of the chain away from him landing in the heart of whatever beast seemed intent on assailing him in the dead of night in the midst of the raging storm. As the chain landed, the creature gasped and staggered backward while the chains wrapped their way around the figure's torso then diving down at its feet and curving upward, snaking around the creature seeming to stretch unnaturally over the black beast.

Danae scrambled to her feet as the brutes came into arms range of her master then reached down and recovered a long, silver polearm that had been at her side. The metal embered and flickered as specks of light awoke along the shaft of the weapon that stood well over the women's head while the curved blade at the end of the weapon. Twirling the guisarme into a defense position across her chest, Danae took stock of the situation. She saw four figures, all taller than she by at least a head. They seemed to have little interest in her though evident from the jabs and slashing they made in concert against her mentor. She swallowed hard as she watched the metallic chains snakelike movement but knew she needed to draw them away from him before he was given any serious wounds. She switched her posture, raise her ankles to stand on the balls of her feet digging her boots into the boggy ground before she charged the nearest figure that was now being confined by her master's living chains and with practiced precision she swept at where she assumed the figures neck would be.

"Retreat, Danae," her master commanded as the creatures head eerily bent away from the slash. The shadowy creature slashed at her with a quickness that the young women had never seen piercing the navy mithral chainmail that enclosed her chest and if Danae hadn't stop in her tracks from the shock those claws sheer speed, she would have most likely aided the beast in sending the unnaturally sharp claws clear through her body. Danae took a step backwards, taking a swift moment to look down at her armor noticing that several of the small chains were collapsing to the ground revealing her sun soaked skin beneath both her armor and the padded shirt she wore underneath. A pair of the darklings had changed their target from her master, who had targeted the nearest creature with the opposite end of his living chains and had already begun to immobilize it as well.

Danae twirled her guisarme as she stood sideways and bent her knees to make herself smaller and less of a target, "I'll hold them and you do something, Master."

"Dark," Korlim cursed as he reached on hand into another pouch, "I swear Danae you are the most stubborn…" grasping a hand full of orange powder and clasped his palm filled with it on the chains he gave up berating his pupil and began chanting a spell.

Danae feinted at the nearest opponent who merely sidestepped as drops of Danae's blood flowed down her chest through the gaps in her armor and over the faded seven star insigna that symbolized the goddess she had come to slowly venerate. The creature to her left grinned revealing a mouth filled with razor shape with teeth that could have been mistaken for carving knives. Danae's heart skipped a beat as she took in a deep gasp of humid air. Danae knew her best approach was to use her weapons length advantage and the creature's lack of possession of weapons to buy enough time for her master to finish the first creatures off then come and aid her. Taking a long step backwards she swept her weapon from one of the creatures to the other then repeated the movement back and again. After being stalled by the simple defensive maneuver the creatures figured out how to move in and did so by moving opposite of the sweeps just after the redhead swung at them, widening the position and making her swings longer, slower and less effective. As the closed in slashing range Danae lowered the aim of her weapon whose blade was beyond the creatures and then reigned the curved blade in catching one of the dark beings ankles sending it crashing back first into the mud. The opposing creature used the brief opening to swing its ebon claws at the redhead's neck but Danae instinctively raised her shoulder as she stood up from her fighting posture. As the searing pain from the blow to her shoulder and bicep crept up and her grip on her weapon loosened as a burst of orange light blinded all three combatants in their tracks causing the creatures to swing wildly at the redhead and the girl to trip on an upraised root fortunately and effectively dodging the errant attack. As Danae's back crashed into the trunk of a wet tree her eyes blurred back from a red-orange sea of illumination flecked with multihued stars into the gloomy black-grays of the night then noticed that the creatures were tranquil, almost stunned as if they were blind … all four of them, although the two in chains were now covered in flames, they stood motionless and were screaming in agony along with the two that were formerly focused on the women. From the trees in front of Danae she heard the patter of feet running through the puddles toward her. More shadows were coming for them…

"Now, girl… run while you still can," Korlim demanded. Danae paused for a moment but as the creatures ear piercing scream reach a fevered pitch and the racing feet grew louder, she turned and sprinted as fast as her feet would take her, gripping her guisarme tightly in her good hand and never looked back once praying that her master had Tymora's luck with him.

Tunaster ached all over but the smells of the sewer kept him from dwelling about pains for long.

"I cannot maintain this pace much longer," Tunaster said and bent over and took several short breaths trying to avoid the searing twinge from breathing deeply.

"Then ask your Goddess from strength… or is your faith too weak," the masked man spat as he wave his stick changing the light of the tunnel from overhead to seem as if it were coming directly to the two. Tunaster had gotten used to his guide's tendency to do odd things with the only light he had seen for several hours, all of which the two had walked through the knee high filth that ran beneath the Wheelon proper.

Tunaster eyes glowered at the man but he made no retort as a dark part of him considered that maybe he wasn't strong enough, either in faith or in body or in both to ever please his goddess and that this current situation was just another test from his goddess, another attempt to place him in a crucible and find out if he was as useless as he felt or could he hold something, anything of value to his matron deity.

The masked man stopped and stabbed the staff into the river of refuse and mumbled to himself for a moment.

"What," the cleric asked starring at the man.

"It's midnight," the masked man said ominiously, "I was hoping you could move faster… but I should have known that a cleric…"

"What's your problem with us," Tunaster spat.

"Nothing," the masked man shrugged and then under his breath muttered, "but thieves and liars."

"Who are you," Tunaster demanded.

"Someone that can help you," he said.

"That's all well and good, but what shall I say when I tell people and the asked of the name of the man that aided me," Tunaster said as he place a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Tell them that the hermit that lives in the sewers and dines on the rats that bred there saved you."

Tunaster sighed causing waves of pain spiraling up his sides.

"We are close to the Wyvernflow… you will be fine when we get there." The dark robe man informed stepping out of the clerics touch and pointed his staff forward.

"And you know this how," Tunaster asked as they continued forward.

The black cloaked figure just marched forward and turned a corner the opened up into a ebon pool filled with the reflections of stars.

"The temple is upstream," the figure pointed, "downstream is the mouth of the Dragonmere. This is where you choice to have faith, or to allow your goddess to be the subject countless blasphemies."

"Look at me, I am in no condition of confront those at the temple again… the last time I was there I couldn't even get passed the courtyard and couldn't find anything significant other than they performing some kind of trust…"

"Mystra's Sacred Trust," the black cloaked man said as he sat on the bank of the river.

"Yes, that… I have lived in or near a Mystran temple since I was born. I have never heard of this Mystra's Sacred Trust and it was nowhere of my studies of ancient Mystran worship…" the cleric double over drawing in breaths between words.

"Which means what, Mystran?"

"I don't know… do you have any clues, Hermit?"

The man coughed seeming to stifle a laugh, "I do."

Tunaster slowly sat next to the man and waited for a response and after waiting several minutes prodded, "So, what exactly have you figured out?"

"That you probably have what I need," the black robe man said without a hint of emotion.

"If you dare assault me authorities from both Cormyr and Sembia will be after you until you head is resting on the end of a pike," Tunaster said as he scooted away.

The man coughed again and laid his staff at his side, "Clerics are so amusing, I mean no harm to you and if I did you'd have already been a corpse and no one would ever find all the pieces of you. But I digress and you seem to need to have me explain the way the world works. Millers crush grain for profit to feed themselves, kings govern for the same and more… I am no different. If you wish to learn what I know I need compensation."

Tunaster frowned. He had no gold on him after the confrontation on the trader ship with an apparent rival.

"I suppose I can't help you then, I have nothing you'd want," Tunaster said.

"I am sure you do… and I want something simple, cleric."

"And that would be," Tunaster asked.

The black robe man ran a hand over his face as he answered cryptically, "Expiation."


	5. Blinded By Sight

**Chapter Four "Blind By Sight"**

_"I woke, she fled, and day brought back my night."_

The images sputtered violently through Danae's mind without any sense of semblance of order. A pair of amethyst eyes gave way to huge beast flying beneath the eyes through a sea of blackness without any sign of light then both became pierced by shard. More images emerged as a troop of shadow creatures charged sadistically toward a city of green. Then the sun snuffed out like a candle flame being pinched. The images then were too quick for the young woman to even recognize but all contained blood and flames…

"Lady Danae," a soft voice from what seemed to be miles away beckoned then repeated, "Lady Huntcrowne, we need to press on."

The matted red hair of the young woman revolved to reveal the bloodshot green eyes that meet a small teenager with an untamable brown nest for a head of hair staring at her.

"What… who…" the women began but couldn't seem to find the words.

"I'm Primrose of the Darkflow. I meet you several moons past in the walls of Mystra's temple in Saerloon. I am sure that you have little memory of me…"

"Rosie," the women turned on her side and sat up uncomfortably, "The swamp girl. I remember… but why are you here?"

Rose grinned wide enough to reveal a chipped tooth in her smile, "I might ask the same of you. You are far closer to my home than I am to yours."

Danae then remembered her dreams which to her seemed more like visions of the green roofed city in Cormyr, "Wheelon," she muttered trying to stand up.

Rose tried to grab the much taller and bulkier women but could do little to help the women's lack of balance and served only as a cushion to the redhead's descent to the mud.

"You are in no condition to walk, Lady Danae. I'm surprised your armor didn't melt into your skin from the fire. Duke is just down the way… he is not fond of the stone you were laying on," the druidess shook her head, "I have no idea how you had any kind of rest on it though."

"Why wouldn't I," the women rolled off the girl and sat against the gray marble stone trying to avoid showing her agitation from implying that she couldn't sleep outside.

"That's known as the Dreamer's Rock, some believe it is one of the teeth of serpent of nightmares," Rose shrugged, "I don't but I couldn't sleep much… I had… sights in my mind."

"You and me both," Danae said as she worked her way slowly into a standing position noticing the brown and green patches across her chest and upper arm, "What are these?"

"They were to stop the bleeding," Rose said solemnly, "I wish I were a better healer, or focused on mending during my walk I could have use more magic for you. I used most of mine to escape from whatever is plaguing my homelands now and to get you out of there."

"The shadows," Danae spat remembering her ordeal and regret churned in the pit of her belly as she remembered that she left her mentor and the only person that had ever completely believed in her to his death. "May the Gates…" she swallowed the cries raging inside of her unable to finish the prayer.

"They don't seem to come out to the light," Rose said as she walked over and reigned in a black horse, "So if we can get to the city before nightfall we should be fine… and we will be able to get your injuries taken care of," Rose struggled to lift the Danae's guisarme, which was almost twice the girl's size, off the ground and bind it to the horse before whispering in the animal's ear.

Danae's eyes widened as the horse trotted calmly to her and lowered his head so she could climb on to his back with as much ease as possible.

"You said something about a fire," Danae said as the druid climbed behind the noblewoman onto the horse.

"Aye," she said waiting for the taller woman to take the horse's reigns, "Half the sun's cycle ago at dawn," Rose said as the noblewoman looked up t the cloudy sky and tried to figure out how the druid knew it was near high noon, "I was riding to find a local merchant after I found out something terrible happened to him , he was captured by something to frightening for Duke to remember. His sisters are worried and I promised to find out if he was okay and then after the fire erupted I started… well I had to make sure that the flames didn't claim too much of the land."

"And that's when you found me," Danae finished.

"Nope," Rose said, "I used a lot of my spells to keep the fire at bay long enough for the rain to crush it and then made my way here and found you and used some of the nearby plants and roots to help seal your wounds but," the druidess paused.

"But what," Danae said with a noble, demanding tone.

"I think they are sick," Rose said touching the fibrous cover over the wound on her arm.

Danae grimaced and flinched causing the horse to rear up slightly.

"It's okay, Duke," Rose said calmly and her other hand brushed the horse's side. "We need a real healer to look at them and fix them… soon."

Danae nodded and spurned the horse from his slovenly trot to a full march as Rose jogged along the horse's side.

**_: : : : : :_**

Ojas stood up in the middle of the water he had poured over the floor of the rented room. He gasped deeply regaining his breath feeling as if he had just come up from deep within the depths of the ocean. He knew just as little as he had before he queried the beings in the parallel plane he had come to know as the Spirit Realm. His own spirit traveled from his native plane leaving his corporeal body behind and journeyed briefly to find answers. Although he had failed to garner any further knowledge be had bargained with the storm spirits that seemed to always be attracted to him for a small bit of power to seek out what was lost in the winds. The spirits he saw where agitated, similarly to when the seas are magically tormented and he knew that something nearby was disturbing the natural balance of the worlds.

"Ojas," a voice from down the stairs yelled loudly, "Hurry up, we need you."

Ojas' cobalt eyes expanded when he noticed the two drenched women at the entrance of the inn. One was kneeling trying desperately to keep the taller one upright. But this was not what startled him… the incandescent blue and silver streams floating around the two was what did.

Ojas swallowed deeply.

Is the other side trying to claim them, Ojas wondered, or are they the ones angering the spirits?

"Please," the short brown hair girl with a pitiful look that even pierced the thick emotional hide of seafarer. "She needs her wounds washed and treated. I would if I had cleansed waters but…"

"Give her to me," Ojas said holding out his arms walking from the stairway to the front entrance. A crash of lightning fell from the heavens to the ground somewhere nearby as he grasped the women, "I'll take care of the water," he looked to a scar faced old man, "You have your herbs handy, Jobai."

"T'always, mate," he said as he stood up to a chorus of cracks from his arched back.

"Meet me in my room," he said carrying the red haired woman that was nearly as tall as he was in his arms staring at her lifeless green eyes. Ojas looked back and saw the small girl standing dumbfounded in the spot he had taken the sickly pale woman from her, "Aren't you coming. I'll need as many willing hands I can get."

The group all clambered up and shouted to Ojas who quickly added, "As many sober, willing hands as I can."

Nearly all of the group growled and sat back down, most of which finished the rum in their mugs.

Rose stared at Danae as she slumbered quietly on the rickety bed.

"She'll be okay, she needs rest to fight off whatever infections we were unable to take care of," the giant of a man said somberly. Rose didn't understand what infection meant but assumed it was bad and nodded.

"She pretty good at fighting so I think she'll be okay soon," Rose added.

Ojas grinned looking at the woman who now was dressed in a white undershirt that had been handed around the Blue Maiden crew more times than a steelpense. Ojas had left the room and let the brown haired girl that told him her name was Primrose and that she had made her home in along the Darkflow, take care of that part of the women's care. Not that he bashful, he just had a sense from the material of the armor and the sight of her polearm, horse, the fact that she had some type of servant with her that she was either a woman of great wealth or of great standing or both… someone he didn't want to anger.

Ojas frowned looking at the girl who still had the swirling tendrils of the spirits radiating around her.

"Are you really from the Vast Swamp, Rose," Ojas asked abruptly.

"Why wouldn't I be," Rose protested.

"Because no one in their right mind would live in a swamp… especially a dreadful one like that… I have seen spirits from there," Ojas concealed a shuddered, "They are nothing to trifle with."

Rose shrugged, "Don't matter where I'm from, ain't like I'll ever be able to go anywhere soon with this weather. Ain't been no sunlight for three days now."

Rose revealed the sighting of the shadow like creatures that were now present in the swamp and though she hadn't mentioned it and may have no come to the conclusion yet, Ojas knew that they were connected to the suddenly turbulent weather.

"The elements are merely a byproduct of the spirits commanding them," he said out loud unknowingly.

Rose's eyes slitted in confusion, "You think the elementals are causing this?"

"No," Ojas said plainly.

Rose waited for an answer that Ojas never gave her.

"I need to visit the Temple of Mystra and find my… captain. You said something about some missing person right," Ojas looked down at the woman one last time before leaving his room. "Maybe they have a diviner."

"But," Rose protested as he exited the room. She looked at the redhead that seemed at peace for the first time sense she had found her and frowned. Rose's curiousity won her over. "Slow down if you want me to come."

The black braid of the dark skinned young man was already down the dark stairway and he made no gesture or sound conforming he had heard her.

Rose patted Danae's head softly, "I'll be back before you know it. You get well."


	6. Lightless Stars

**Chapter Five "Lightless Stars"**

_**"Love and knowledge led upwards to the heavens,  
But always pity brought me back to earth;"**_

Tryshra crushed the thick piece of fleece tightly in her hand and stared into the gray-black sky overhead through the lonely barred window. The night was starless yet again and she'd be called on to use her newly discovered talent.

Talents, she reminded herself and centered her attention on her left arm which was wrapped into cloth bandings from fingertip to shoulder. Her fingers collapsed over the untamed ball of fleece sending a quake of pain through her body.

"The pain is merely weakness fleeing your soul, precious," the alluring voice said through the closed wooden door.

"Shan," Trysh said through grinding teeth as she sat down on the tattered cot in an offshoot room of the outermost part of the temple that had become her home, "It's hurts again… please," the small woman begged as the door opened.

A dour man in dark robes embossed with seven stars walked carefully to the women. He smiled starring at her from head to toe and didn't hide how much he enjoyed the sight of the lithe women crowned with her slick, short black hair. He gazed into her brown hedged hazel eyes much the same way snake charmers fixed their eyes on their pets. "Do you wish to put your faith in a bottle or in the hands of he who rescued you, thief girl."

Trysh swallowed hard remembering her near death experience in the streets of Selgaunt and awaking in the presence of the man that stood above her. And though she remembered little else that happened in between she knew the man that stood in front of her longed to steal her affection away over the last few months. She gasped her arm tightly.

"Both," Trysh answered quietly.

She thought she could hear him growl under his breath as he walked the half dozen steps to his bed and pulled out his small potion case, unlocked it with a skull shape key and reach inside relieving the crimson potion that danced inside a crystal vial.

"Are certain you need this filth," Shan said calmly hiding is contempt as much as he could.

Trysh nodded, "I don't wish to ruin your ceremony."

His ceremony, the cleric smiled at the thought. The woman at least near her place… like all the things in the temple, everything was his… including her. He tossed Trysh the vial, "I hope the liquid pain will alleviate your infirmities, precious," he faked at smile, "True knowledge lies within the stars."

Trysh nodded in agreement as Shan left their room and greedily pulled the cork on the vial open them wrapping her cold lips around the warm container she drank the thick, red distilled liquid in a single motion.

Almost as quickly as it as it filled her stomach the numbness came over her as it had always. She was at complete and total peace albeit temporary peace. She unrolled one of the bandings to see it again.

Black metal smiled back at her, almost mocking her. She smiled to herself and reminded herself that she'd make everyone responsible for her pain and misery pay. She would make them feel what she did and more. She'd take away what they cherished the most just as they had done her. A thief with no arm… not just a thief, she reminded herself, the most accomplished slip in the back alleys of the Scab in Selgaunt. Now what was she?

An agony addicted monster with an arm of foreign metal, she told herself as the prickles of life pecked across her skin.

* * *

The path northward to the temple was dreary to the shipmen and outside of the handful of random peals of thunder and bursts of lightning little held his interest in the drizzly weather. On the other hand with the rainfall slowly dying down the teenage girl seemed intent on staring at everything she passed and Ojas wished he had forced the issue on taking the girl's horse to the temple after he was told that 'Duke' was too tired and really didn't like walking through cities much anyway. Perhaps she would have found him more of a conversationalist…

"Almost there," the druidess exclaimed and pointed up the cobblestone step the pair walked along that steadily climbed upward into a steep bluff that sat on a hill to the west bank of the Wyvernflow. The flat whitewash structured slowly came into view in the waning hours just after dusk.

As they strided closer Ojas noticed the guards that stood patiently just over the stone door that still stood open leading into the outer courtyard of the temple, which if Ojas' eyes were not deceiving him, held a gathering of people.

"Look at that," Rose said and sprinted to a statue that sat on the left side of the doorway, "It looks different than the one in Saerloon, Mystra looks old in this statue… but the shining stones on her head make you not really notice." The druidess leapt back as a blue snap of light bit at the girl.

Ojas frowned, "I thought you said that you were a magic user."

"I am… well a bit. I am not very… ummm… skilled," Rose said as she rested her hand on the statue, "I have no formal training aside from what I learned from my pack."

Ojas' frown melted away, "A pack… at least you are interesting."

"Move along, travelers, if you wish to see the ceremony, hurry inside," a heavy voice from atop the temple wall that stood at least four times as high as Ojas stood directed, "If you just wish to grope the goddess' likeness, please return at more reasonable hour."

Rose slowly back away from the statue, "Mystra's voice is odd."

Ojas shook his head, "We might as well see what this ceremony is about," he held out his hand to the girl, "Come and stand by my side… there seems to be quite a crowd tonight."

The wide walled courtyard was open to the sky and although it still was sprinkling, the storm seemed to be slowing at least for the moment. The obsidian slab tiles speckled with starburst white stones that would have matched the night sky if Akadi's realm wasn't plugged with clouds. The stones though seemed oddly dry from the conditions they had been subjected to. Ojas assumed it was some property of magic.

A waste, he thought to himself. Mages could, if they put their minds to it, cure diseases and plagues that took innocents lives, they could increase the yield of farmers lands or even create peace among the nations if they tried hard enough. But all mages, even temple mages, coveted was gold, like everyone else. The floor was just a way to influence those with deep pockets to give whoever controlled the temple their wealth. Ojas had come to terms long ago that he and his shipmates were not the only "smugglers" that shared the lands of the Sea of Fallen Stars. Everyone from the lowliest farmer to the King of Cormyr himself was in one way or another, a smuggler himself.

Ojas' eyes met Rose's frowning, freckled face that glazed at the ground beneath her, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing here talks… they are just like the ones in the city… gagged by men," Rose said sadly.

"And," Ojas said impatiently, "What would you expect?"

"The Tower of Mysteries is still alive… well not like my homeland… but much like people in their last moons are alive… they had seen much too," Rose said as she pulled the larger man to one of the gargantuan statues akin to the one at the entrance although it was posed differently, with her hands outstretched to the night sky. Across the court yard a twin statue facing the other one was posed exactly the same way.

"They are just statues, Rose," Ojas scowled as the girl raised a hand on it.

"You probably think dirt is just unthinking, unfeeling dust," Rose shook her head.

Ojas tried to hide is growing aggravation with the girl, "All things have a soul."

Rose looked up blankly as she titled her head, "Soul?"

Ojas sighed deeply, "An imperceptible force the sparks it," the girl still looked confused, "Everything has a part of itself that is or was alive at least once."

Rose's smile grew, "The Earthmother's spirit… you are smarter than you look, Ojas."

One of us has to be, Ojas thought to himself.

"Well, nothing here is still soully," Rose frowned.

"The stone has been worked," he looked around and added, "Most likely overworked."

"The stones are merely at rest," a calm smiling voice said from Ojas' side. He turned and met the gray eyes of the middle aged man in blue and silver robes that marked him as a Mystran cleric, "Like all living things, even the stones need rest."

Rose looked up at Ojas almost asking for an answer.

The man smiled and held his to the teenage girl, "May Mystra guide you. I am Shan Thar, and I work to serve the Mother of All Magics. If you have a question you mi…."

"Are you the head priestess here," Rose interrupted. Ojas smiled slightly.

"Well," Shan faked a smile, "Mystra doesn't really focus on hierarchies…"

"The Tower of Mysteries had a head priestess," Rose said looking around, "that knew a lot about magic and books and stuff."

Ojas fought to hide his enjoyment.

"I believe you are speaking of Lady of Mystery Naedaenya Arthas, she is…"

"No," Rose said again interrupting, "I think her name was…"

"Listen," Shan voice said harshly, then softened as his smile returned, "Our Lady of Mystery is known as Lady Arthas but she is very busy, Mystra has laid a heavy burden on her heart and she has little time for visitors this eve, little girl."

Rose nodded dejected, "I just want to learn more about magic is all."

"Then stay for tonight's ceremony," Shan touched the statue of Mystra, "The true nature of magic will be revealed to you if you pay attention." Then looking at the taller young man added, "I must take my leave to make preparations for the Lady's presence and please refrain from taking home any mementos, we have a very talented diviner in our clergy that is famed for locating missing objects," then added so low that only the two men could hear, "Snake bait."

Ojas' fist instinctively balled up and the faded 'S' shape tattoo on his face seemed to itch unnaturally. Shan smiled revealing a set of near perfect pearly teeth then walked away from the pair.

"He's a lot different from the temple folk in Saerloon," Rose said. Ojas just nodded.

* * *

The black cloaked figure had no idea how long he stared at the woman through the window as he sat idly on the hillside bluff the descended into the river below. With the cleric of Mystra gone down river in his makeshift raft, the rogue had made the half a day's climb up the stone cliff that lined the river to the temple and after surveying the defenses, came across the small window that jailed the olive skin woman he had seen when he had last visited the temple over a tenday ago from the shadows of an altar out of the view of the woman. It had been only the second time he had seen Tryshra since he had nearly escaped from a stronghold of a necromancer in an effort to recover an object that Trysh had held above anything in the world.

Was a doll really worth it, Trysh, he asked himself. The images of the torture still sent a chill to the very morrow of his bones. No longer the girl he had betrayed his mentor for, the man that had taught him all he knew about magic and that had saved him from the streets of Selgaunt, now a shell of what he had remember. His eyes could not stop staring at the grey-black metallic artifice that was mingled where her left arm had once been as she removed her dull gray robe and stood up and gaze right at him just a dart's toss away.

His heart stopped, not for fear of her noticing him since he had just cast a spell on himself allowing him to remain unseen but at noticing the dullness in her features. Her pallid skin, the bruises that covered her from her neck to her toes like a barbarian's tattoos. He longed to reach out, hold her and embrace her like when they were youths but his feet wouldn't allow him to move forward. The guilt was too heavy. It was all too real.

"Why aren't you ready," a man screamed from behind one of the walls out of the cloaked man's vision, "If you ruin this chance you can drink the rest of your supply from the bottom of the Wyvernflow," he screamed loud enough for the rogue to hear outside through the stone wall.

Trysh mouthed something that the rogue couldn't hear.

"Fine," the voice still boomed as his arm clasped around the neck of the woman. Trysh didn't flinch and just stood numb. The rogue took a step forward and the middle aged man came into view as he dropped his hand down the exposed skin of Trysh most likely apologizing from his features.

The rogue knew then that he had to act. He had abandoned the woman he had once told he loved years ago and still was paying for that deceit. He had his chance to amend his past and prove that he was capable of love to her. And who have to do it in the only way he had known to…

* * *

Rose's eyes gazed up at the sky in amazement as the stars came to life and glowed so brightly that their light seemed to pierce though the very clouds that had once hindered their shining light. She tried to focus on the long winded cleric speak from between the two Mystran statues about magic in relation to the stars but couldn't hold her focus. She figured that she was bored because she had heard the same presentation performed in Saerloon… and in her opinion told more impressively. But the lights of the sky enthralled her.

"The true power of magic is not in what we see but in that in which we do not," Shan spoke as the nearly dozen of gathers listened quietly as the lights glimmered and glowed, several of the stars brightened as making a pattern that those familiar to constellations knew to be the Lady. Ojas looked on unimpressed, although he was an avid stargazer, what navigator wasn't but he felt this was ripe with fallacies.

Several of the stars were misplaced, only slightly, but still enough for someone that had trusted on the stars steadfastness for years to notice.

Magic, Ojas told himself and had began trying to find out where it originated but he been unsuccessful. Unlike natural magic, such as a fireball, which would attract the spirits of fire to it, illusion magic seemed to attract nothing from outer realm. Ojas had to use his ordinary vision to find this source magic.

"The power of magic lies within the stars," Shan Thar revealed and held up his hands and the stars all brightened in unison. "The bear," a group of stars to the north flashed and shimmered in multiple colors, "Is not strong because of his size, what one sees, but because of his courage. That which the natural eye cannot fathom. "

Rose tried to remember what she had learned of bears, since she had never met one. She knew they were large animals that only attack when they felt provoke and had the physical power to defeat animals larger than itself. Rose than began to think about what other things she had lack seeing from living in the Vast Swamp… what kind of animals made their homes in the Thunderpeaks to the northeast or in the Sea of Fallen Stars. As her mind wandered the cleric continued to talk about the stars and they changed color as he spoke of them but the druidess gave little interest in the words, just the stars filled her mind giving her thoughts of seeing what all the world could show her and knew that the stars were merely the gods of nature's canvas to show those that couldn't all they had made for them to enjoy.

"Now," Shan's voice pierced the trance that the girl had been in, "I would like to offer anyone that is interested, anyone that was touched by Mystra this night to join in Mystra's Sacred Trust."

Ojas whispered, "What is that, Rose."

The druidess shrugged, "Don't know, I didn't hear of that at the other temple."

Several people pushed their way to the cleric as he said, "The cost is not free, as nothing in life. We only ask a nominal donation to partake in this right, one that Mystra will be used to further Mystra's cause."

What would the gods need with gold, Rose asked herself. Sometimes her circle would burn the first of their catch or the few foods they grew but those were proof of their devotion that the Earthmother would always provide for them. Perhaps city folk couldn't live without gold… or at least thought they couldn't but it still seemed odd to the girl.

Ojas began to wonder if Veera would have been taken in by this. Normally she wouldn't… but Ojas had never been around the captain of the Blue Maiden without his mentor before. She had seemed different when they reach the shore. Maybe she would have undertook this without telling him. For a brief monument Ojas thought about seeing what this sacred trust was all about until he saw the strings of blue-white energy race from overheard and into the heart of Shan.


	7. Quancy

**CHAPTER SIX "Quancy"**

**_"If you stand straight, do not fear the crooked shadow."_**

Closing his black leather tome the man in black robes stood from the spot he had sat cross legged in a trance filling his mind with the complex utterances and formulas he'd need to perform the spells necessary to make the bastard that held his Trysh hostage pay for his crimes.

It would not be the first time he had killed someone in cold blood. He had not remembered a time when he had not been around bloodshed although he hadn't participate in a murder until he was almost a teenager, precisely half a lifetime ago a dozen years passed after his master, a thief lord that was train in the Art passed along his skill of meshing magic and larceny into a tapestry of splendor. Along with his inherited nimbleness and capacity for knowledge he had grown from a simple guttersnipe into a feared shadow of the night, although most of the people frightened of him had no idea what he looked like, only known as one of the shades that strikes from the dark.

The first man he had murder was a gambler that had sold everything he had for his habit and had wagered away his daughter to cover his losses. His master had actually always had an eye on the young black haired girl for some reason… perhaps her penchant for mischief intrigued him.

_If I knew then that it was Trysh's father that I'd hone my skills on_, he regretted remembering the ease at which he performed the task. He stalked the man for two days never letting him leave his sight and when the man had finally been alone relieving himself the rogue struck without warning. Trysh's father never even screamed as the dagger flung from overhead pierced through his neck, deep into the back of his skull.

Staring at the wall he smiled.

"I haven't scaled this much in forever," the rogue said to himself quietly as he found his punch daggers in one of the many pouches that sat on the belt that snapped across his waist over his black robe. The small pouch seemed far too small to house the blades that locked around his hands. With practiced skill the rogue clawed his way up the wall along the hill the temple seemed to merge into in the northeast corner just as he had the hillside bluff a day before.

The first guard never turned north, the rogue reminded himself as he began to chant while he slowly crept toward the closest guardsmen that limply held his repeating crossbow. With every mystic word the shadows the light from the stars overhead danced and seemed to come alive. Just as the rogue came within spitting range of the guard he whispered the final word sending the very shadows around him toward the guard that turned around just in time to be covered by the inky black beings.

Not wasting the moment the rogue slapped at the edge of the stone wall facing the bluff and just as he as if he planned it the guard followed the sound trying to run from the shadows that refused to release him from their darkness. The rogue didn't even watch the armored guard's fall as he duck beneath a pillar knowing the only other guard outside the temple would be approaching given the commotion. The rogue was pleased with his timing though, the spectacle below would hide the sounds above.

The other guard walked half the length of the southern wall and cursed.

The black hooded rogue swallowed deeply hoping he wasn't calling more of his comrades.

"Damn it, Ambrose," the voice was harsh and guttural and judging from the size of the armored man he figured him to have some kind of orcish blood in him, "You'd best not be sleepin' again. The Cap'n gonna get…."

The shining dagger in the light of the sky could have easily passed for a shooting star.

The big man crumble to his knees were he had once stood.

With the guards down the rogue sat in the shadows of the walls and listened to the cleric speak while Trysh, pretending to be praying at an altar to the northwest corner fought to hold her concentration on the false images that had come to life well overhead.

The rogue was impressed. Trysh had not taken to magic lesson from their master as teenagers. She was far better at stealth and infiltration than she was with spells. In fact he had never remembered seeing her cast a spell of her own accord ever. Perhaps the abomination on arm… more appropriately for her arm gave her the talent to use the spell that had been one of the rogue's favorites. Maybe she had always been able to use magic and just lacked the motivation. But as the rogue looked closer he saw the source… a silver disc in her iron fingers in the middle of a clump of fleece.

Divine magic. Had his once former partner that shared his views on the gods succumb to the callings of some self righteous deity?

Watching Trysh focus and command the image of the night sky and changing the vibrancy of the stars with skill that could rival his own talents with illusionary magic made him feel uneasy. Quickly regaining his focus he crawled under the two foot high barrier of the wall battlement to the dying guardsmen.

His muffled attempts to blow the small horn that hung around his neck just caused his death to come quickly. The rogue could hear the spilling blood fill his lungs. Then with a wisp of a smile on his face the rogue pulled his dagger out of the muscular neck of the larger man making sure to deviate the rest of the wind tunnel finishing off the kill. Then rogue search the temple guard for anything of value, finding only a gold key with a blood red gem, most likely a ruby worth a few gold pieces he called to mind a spell to change his features. Slowly he thought of the guard before being slain as he recited the spell, then as he finish he withdrew a mirror from one of his pockets and look at the glamer spell. It wasn't bad, the armor was a bit off and he didn't look tall enough, most likely because the guard was over a head taller than the rogue. Then as the rogue dropped the mirror he spoke another string of incantations and as the mirror spliced on the stone floor it several copies of the rogue emerged from the shards of the small mirror. Mentally he commanded the quartet of replicates to space out an arm's length from each other and the rogue took sight of the long winded cleric how was still yammering on. Uncorking a small vial that was icy on the tips of his hand he poured the contents of the cloudy liquid on his hand as he spoke an auran phrase and pointed his finger.

The frozen ray hit the cleric directly in the heart and as the cleric gasped for air several of the visitors ran frantically toward the exit. Someone sounded an alarm although the rogue had no idea who since from his observation only the guards overhead had horns and the only one of those. The rogue darted along the southern wall and then turned the corner up the western wall as a trio of bolts flashed over his head taking out a pair of his illusionary doubles. As he came near the end of the wall enclave he saw the round port hole that obviously housed the ladder to bring the guards up and down the wall.

As another stream of darts sang over his head he bent down to pull the door open. Nothing.

"Dark," the rogue exclaimed as he heard noises from beneath the locked passageway. Then pulled at one of his eyebrows and reached into a pouch feeling around for the soft piece of gum arabic. The rogue cursed again and continued to another of his many pouches as the two remaining replicas did likewise in unison. As he heard the pounding of hands clapping on the iron bars leading upward toward him he felt what he needed and wrapped it around his eyelash and mouthed the words and slowly watched his already altered form blink into nothing.

The port hole opened and a guard wielding a great sword nearly the size of the rogue pulled himself up onto the wall and surveyed the landing then called out for the guards below to cover him as he secured the wall.

The rogue made the best of the situation and quietly set his feet on the iron bars and climbed slowly down the ladder trying to make as little noise as possible.

Without warning the sides of the temple that sat along the bluff began to crack along the lines of mortar. The worried rogue jumped down the other half of the length of the ladder only to be grasp and pulled up to the wall by a huge root of some kind.

"Show yourself assassin," the thick, harsh voice commanded as the door that lead to the outer courtyard was slammed shut.

The rogue's fought and twisted to break free from the magical entanglement but it proved fruitless. The rogue struggled to breathe as he noticed that the room only contained two people, a girl brown hair girl speaking to a beaded gray necklace and sun soaked big man no older than him… probably around twenty years old. The big man march forward and punched at the rogue's left side and heard a gasp. One of his clones had been defeated.

"But, how," he said in stereo with his remaining clone.

"The vines are wrapped around you," the big man punched the remaining illusion just as the rogue's concentration to hold the invisibility faded and he came into view, "You should surrender yourself."

"Ojas, don't hurt him," the girl said with her eyes closed seeming to focus completely on whatever witchcraft she performed to ensnare the rogue.

"He's an assassin, I'm sure he's killed people before. He deserves death," Ojas said as he punched the choking man.

"Then let his tribe decide it," Rose said calmly as she pointed through the doorway to the mass of insanity the surged in the open courtyard.

Ojas grabbed the rogue and pulled him through the vines, breaking several of them which caused the druidess wince in pain. "Fine," Ojas said as he slammed the rogue to the ground and wrapped the vines around his arms and legs with the speed and precision of only someone that had worked with knots and ropes for much of their life, "We hold him but I want to make sure he is treated like the scum he is."

"They keep people hostage," the rogue argued.

"Who do they have hostage here," the big man demanded.

"A women… with a metal arm," the rogue said gritting his teeth as the bindings grew tighter from his attempts to escape from them. "She was the one that cast the illusion of stars in the sky."

Rose had noticed that the moment the commotion started that the stars returned behind the cloud and though she had not seen magic used in such a way she figured that it wasn't impossible to perform.

"Her name is Tryshra," he said as the guard captain climbed down the ladder and his three subordinates pushed the door open, "She is from Selgaunt and…"

"Shut up, prisoner," the Captain said hitting him over the head with the hilt of the huge two handed sword.

As the four guards dragged the cloaked man through the doorway, a woman that neither Rose nor Ojas had notice since arriving held her hands up halting the guardsmen and their quarry.

"Who are you to think you may come on holy ground and seek to destroy what the Goddess wishes to accomplish here," the woman demanded as she strode to the cloaked man and grabbed the clasp the held his hood over his head.

"Forgive… me," the man murmured as the black hood was torn from his head revealing his matted silver hair crowned with a pair of thumb sized golden brown horns. His lavender eyes gazed unblinking at the unnaturally pale woman seeming to plead for forgiveness.

"Quancy," the woman said gravely as what little color left in her face dissipated and before she could recover her strength the four guards lead the rogue away.

"My…" the rasping voice of the goose skinned cleric said as he leaned against the wall for support, "Thanks."

Rose reached out to help the man walk toward the large stone doors that were opening up for the assassin to be lead through.

"I owe you my life," he said rubbing at the hole in his chest that revealed the freshly sutured pink skin over his heart. Just after the icy beam pierced through the cleric Rose used her renewed connection to the land from the walk to the temple to invoke a spell over the cleric's wound to keep him from passing away.

"I just did what was needed," she looked to the sailor and added bluntly, "What most anyone would have done?"

"Sweet innocence," the cleric gasped as he stopped at the double doors that lead inside the temple that was built in the hillside, "Most people only give of themselves if they can get something in return. You are what Mystra counts as far more costly than even the rarest of metals or gems."

Rose cheeks filled with flush, "The gods have no need for mortals folly," she recited the phrase she had heard all her life and never really understood.

Shan shook his head as he looked down at the druidess, "And who are we to say what the gods have need of."

Rose tried to digest the counter argument but the cleric continued, "I want to offer you a chance to hear from Mystra herself what she needs."

Ojas clasped his hand on the shoulder of the cleric, "You are in no condition to make passes at girls a quarter of your age."

The cleric glared, "I make no pass… and I am sure this woman is old enough to consent to whatever she pleases."

Ojas pulled Rose back away from the door, "We leave now," Rose's eyes grew twice their size, "There must be a good reason why someone would want that pervert murdered. Did you notice how sickly that altar girl looked?"

Rose hadn't taken a good look at her with the gloominess of the sky but had noticed that she looked as unclean as she, which was common for her since dirt seemed to just be attracted to her and she welcomed the attraction but she new people that lived in temples weren't suppose to like things like that. In Saerloon every room in the Tower of Mysteries was swept, dusted and mopped daily and the common areas three times a day.

"The Lady is working to make Tryshra whole as she has been very ill," Shan said looking over at the girl that was ushering the remaining visitor out of the temple.

Rose looked up at Ojas, "Isn't that what the goat man said her name was."

"Obviously a most well schooled assassin," Shan interjected.

"Rose," Ojas said trying to keep the temper out of his voice, "You promised to return to your friend's side."

Rose nodded and looked at the cleric, "My friend is right. I'm sorry but I need to go back to town…"

Shan's fingers dug into the shoulder of the druidess, "I'm sorry but I can't let you go."


	8. Inner Sanctum

**Chapter Seven "Inner Sanctum"**

**_"A rat that gnaws at a cat's tail invites destruction."_**

Rose stood aghast only a few steps away from woman with a constructed arm as she repeating struck Shan Thar in the face with her anomalous fist. Rose's brown eyes slowly surveyed the carnage. A pair of guards lay in shallow red pool graves. A traveler that had rushed back into the temple after hearing the screams of anguish was crushed against one of the black walls and a woman that looked ready to give birth at a moment's notice cried feverishly at the feet of his upraised body. Ojas was limp against the door leading to the interior of the temple between the druidess and the woman that still pounded the cleric's face savagely.

"Stop, Tryshra," Rose pleaded not daring to take a step against her. She had watched what how easily she threw Ojas off of her then for good measure connected with a closed fisted punch to in the center of his chest. Rose had witnessed much in her day… starving crocodiles, howling ghosts and even a beholder from afar but she had never seen a single being fight as ruthlessly and mercilessly as this woman. "He's dead… they're all dead."

The woman's head turned and gazed idly at the teenager while her arm still tenderized the face of Shan.

"No one else here can hurt you," Rose said taking a precautionary step backward toward the exit doorway.

Trysh brutally threw the mangled head of the cleric to the starry floor and rose from the ground clutching her heavy arm with her natural one still with her eyes locked on Rose.

Rose put her hands up in front of her, "It's okay, Tryshra," Rose tried to convince both the woman and herself, "I don't want to hurt you."

Ojas grumbled causing Rose's heart to leap out of her chest for a moment. Trysh muttered incoherently to herself and Rose sidestepped still out of arms length trying to get closer to Ojas.

"Who are you," Trysh finally growled.

"Primrose," she said as calmly as she could, "I am not an enemy of yours. I think Quancy…"

"Quancy," the woman mumbled and looked around the bloody courtyard, "Was that… really him?"

Rose didn't know how to respond. Rose had never seen anyone like the would-be assassin, mostly man but with horns like those of a goat and his skin was brighter than most people's… more red than she even became when she was in the light of the sun too long. Rose gave the woman the only answer she could, "I think so."

"They took him… inside," Ojas said weakly. Rose moved closer to him still not making any sudden movements. The woman seemed calm but Rose didn't want to do anything else that could make the woman turn on her.

"Then we go inside," Trysh demanded as she turned, grabbed the larger man by his long, thick braid and pulled him to his feet, "Now."

Rose reached out and grabbed Ojas by the waist and pres him against the stone door, "He needs some time to heal."

"He doesn't have time," Trysh said bluntly and reached for the opposing door. It wouldn't move.

Trysh let of a primal growl.

"Earthmother protect us," Rose prayed silently watching the pull brutally at the door which wouldn't budge.

Rose continued to give praise to Mother of All Living Things asking her to guide her hands and give it the strength to mend the wounds that they touched.

Ojas stiffened as life pulsed through Rose's hand and over the lesions that one his arms and legs and the huge cut on his back that ran from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. "That's fine, Rose," Ojas said placing his hand on her wrist, "You need to maintain your strength too."

Rose dropped her hand obediently as she whispered quietly, "Do you think we can make a run for town?"

Ojas shook his head from side to side, "These people are hiding something… and Veera might," Ojas' jaw clenched as he paused choosing his words, "Have been taken in by these zealots."

Rose was about to ask what a zealot was when Trysh's hand clawed between the pair, "Are you two coming or are you going to betray me too?"

Rose gulped as Ojas' face remained an emotionless mask, "You saved our lives… why would we betray you."

"Everyone betrays everyone," Trysh said, "It's only a matter of time."

"We are not going to betray you any time soon then," Ojas affirmed the woman. "Rose, find a weapon to your liking. Tryshra, do you live here?"

The woman nodded silently.

"We need anything that can help us… do you have any idea how many people reside inside."

"No," Trysh said solemnly, "I only go inside to…" the woman stopped, "Perform my penance."

"What is penance," Rose asked reluctantly.

There was no noise between the three, only the cool night wind swept over the courtyard.

Rose raised an eyebrow, "Mustn't be good then." Rose shrugged and walked over to one of the guards that wielded a curving long blade.

"That thing is bigger than you are, Rose," Ojas said.

"What," Rose answered as she stood up with a small piece of leather in her hand, "I know how to use a sling. I might not be a seafarer but I've seen a lot of fighting in my life."

Ojas nodded but inwardly wondered exactly how much fighting she had done. He remembered the condition of the girl's red haired friend and considered maybe he would end up like her… Rose didn't look very strong. If she were on his boat she might be able to work as a lookout if she were capable of climbing the pole but beyond that she'd be dead weight.

"Shan and my room is… was… over there," the woman pointed east to a small door that was shut, "He keeps all his stuff there… there is a box with a lock. I need it. Anything else you may borrow."

Ojas raised an eye at the burrow comment, "You murder your lover then act nonchalant about it and say I can borrow his things," then mumbling to himself, "I will make sure Sune's smile does not affect me whilst I am around you."

All in all the trio made a good haul of leftover from the skirmish and Rose even calmed the pregnant woman down enough to accept a few of her coins and return town and alert the authorities. Rose felt the small stones in her hand and somehow she felt and saw life in them. Ojas told her that they appeared to have a slight tinge of magic about them but could not be sure exactly.

"Seven magic stones," the girl had whispered to herself as she closed the burlap sack they sat in.

Ojas had retrieved Trysh's case which clanged loudly no matter how hard he tried to keep them still. He also took a ring of keys from the cleric's room and a long spear off a wall mount over and altar. Trysh clutched her case tightly but refused to open it and had found enough bandages to keep Ojas' wounds from reopening and help them heal a little quicker.

Ojas began to fiddle with the lock to open it but found it able to open already. The sailor stiffened and stared at his two companions.

Rose shrugged and moved to open the door wider but the shaman stopped her and whispered, "We need to go in silently," and he looked up at the woman, "Is that picture spell the only spell you know?"

"It is not a picture spell, pirate," Trysh grumbled, "I have been taught a few other spells if that is what you're asking."

Ojas nodded as Rose added, "I can make us small… maybe."

Trysh quirked an eyebrow, "Small?"

"Aye, I do it sometimes when I'm angry… or sad or hungry or bored or..."

"Your manifestation," Trysh asked.

Rose eyes widen in confusion.

Ojas clarified remembering the druidess' story about her goal of reaching the Tower of Mysteries to learn to control her magic, "The way your people found out you could use magic."

"Exactly," Rose said, "If I can make one of us small we could get a chance to scout inside and see what they are doing."

"Clever," Ojas said. Rose smiled then he added, "For a druid girl."

Trysh shook her head, "I don't think it will work. Maybe I should just go in…"

"No." Ojas said matter of factly.

Rose scrunched her eyes, "Why not?"

"She could set out against us," Ojas reminded the druidess.

"I killed everyone out here remember. I will be the one hanging in gallows if I am lucky," Trysh said somberly.

"Unless you pin the crime on us," Ojas added.

Rose put her small hand up, "I don't think we have a choice. We have to trust her," Ojas rolled his eyes as the druidess continued, "She can go in and make a distraction for us if necessary and we can slip in unnoticed right after her."

"Yeah," Trysh added, "I'll even leave the door partly open."

"No," Ojas said his voice filled with defiance.

"Why not now," Rose said exasperated.

"There are bound to be more of them then us in there… if there are," Ojas said, "Trysh you lead them out here."

Silence reigned for a few moments then the warrior nodded in agreement, "You two wait here for a moment, Rose find a good spot up high to use that sling from okay," and without knowing it she placed her constructed hand on the girl's shoulder. Rose fought to force a smile out as she looked at the arm that seemed at least as big as her torso. "If there are guards there I'll send them out here."

Trysh added looking up at the starless sky, "Let's hope the gods are watching… this should make for a damn good show."

* * *

The last three days had pressed every part of Veera Wavecrest. She hadn't known why she made the choice to pay a temple enough gold to buy a used rowboat to go through the suffering she was. She could deal with the bland food they served once a day, her raspy voice from all the chanting and all the grueling physical exercises she performed but as she stood listening along with the other half a dozen petitioners to the taciturn voice of Fembrys, the type of person that could make barnacles gathering on the belly of vessel seem interesting in comparison to his long, cyclical dialogue, she was thankful that it was soon to be over. Veera tugged at the vestments she wore as the wrinkled man continued to press the fact that the petitioners need to see more than the stars which give birth to the power of magic but to that which between those stars is what is truly the source of magic.

Magic was something that Veera had never really trusted in her thirty five years in the realms. Although she was raised with a vast understanding of it from the shadow of her parents who were both alchemist, she found magic to be useless. Although most wizards would not tell you as much, magic could not mend all things. Her parents had learned that after being forced out of business by a shady merchant that sold alchemist products for twice as much as her parents with half the quality. Not even seventeen then she set out to find a way to make enough gold to mend her family together again and put a roof over their heads. And somewhere between the last half of her life she had found her way to the seas and worked as a deckhand on several vassals before going a ship mastered by Azla Black and learned all that she truly knew not just about the high seas but about life in general. Veera took over the reins of the Blue Maiden after her mentor turned herself over to Cormyrian authorizes. Veera shook the image of the woman she had loved as much as her own mother out of her mind.

Love will make you do some odd things, she thought to herself as she glazed up at the grapefruit sized crystal orb that sat in the hand of Fembrys as he pulled the object from a hidden compartment in the altar the he stood behind. Small flecks of color swam around its dark core but the light from the torches didn't seem to affect it and most notably to Veera, it left no shadow.

* * *

After what seemed a lifetime to the tiefling one of the guards left the room after pummeling him mercilessly. The remaining guard stood staring at his prisoner seeming to decide how he would impress himself on the rogue.

"Hmph," the voice grumbled familiarly, "A tiefling."

Quancy eyes flared up at the armor cladded man, "Tunaster?"

The disguise man nodded, "I decided against fleeing," he moved to the binds of the rogue and began unraveling them, "I might die but at least I'll die knowing that I did so in service to the Lady."

Quancy was too weak to argue. Faith was pointless to the rogue. He had seen countless numbers of men give their lives to the Gods and saw that the Gods gave nothing back in return.

Tunaster uncorked a small vial of green liquid and poured it into the rogue's mouth. Its iron-like taste was much like his own blood that currently swam in his mouth from the wounds of the other gaurdsmen. Soon many of those pen wounds bound over and he felt tenderness in his sides and back melt away slowly.

"A natural curative," Tunaster explained, "You should feel better in a few minutes."

Qunacy's mind began to formulate the situation and a way to escape it. "We need to get past the other guard and get out of here."

Tunaster shook his head, "No, these people are not worshippers of Mystra… I need more proof so I can put a stop to it."

"Have you lost your mind," Quancy said quietly, "I'm sure there are more guards deeper in this place."

"Only four are stationed in the inner temple," Tunaster reported, "And a cleric that has given himself the title of Starweaver is holding his trust in the innermost temple as we speak," Tunaster spat, "Sacrilegious parasites."

"But," Quancy began to argue.

"And your friend could be hurt," Tunaster said quietly, "I heard the sounds of a fight outside that's where the other guard was heading."

"Tryshra," Qunacy mumbled then sighed, "Fine. What do you want to do next?"

"We wait," Tunaster said loosely tying the last rope around the rogue to make it appear still intact but lose enough to be easily broken out of, "I am sure the Lady will give us a clear sign of what to do next."


	9. Where Lightning and Shadows Dance

**Chapter Eight**********

**_"Where Shadows and Lightning Dance"_**

_"To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved."_**_  
_**

Tryshra's heart fluttered as she walked through the middle temple. She had been through it only a handful of times before and knew that if Shan was alive she'd be punished probably by having her addiction taken away from her for an exceptionally long length of time.

"Or he'd flog me again," she said absently remembering the cloudy memory of the beating she received for touching the door in the innermost temple… the door that lead to Mystra's holy presence Shan had told her. But somewhere deep within herself she knew he was lying… somehow she knew personally that nothing laid behind those doors but death.

Tryshra eyes grew twice their size when she saw the guard come out of the guard post room that sat next to large dorms that the petitioners used while they stay in the temple in the mornings just after dawn. Where they went after that, Trysh didn't even know… all she knew was that she never saw one leave the front entrance not escorted by a pair of guards at blade point.

The guard opened the door and waved for Trysh to come in. Trysh startled for a moment but then stepped forward figuring that she had little to worry about against the common sellswords the temple hired on.

"Trysh," the quivering voice of Qunacy murmured from the back of the room.

"The Lady grant us light," Trysh rushed the rogue and wrapped her arms around the rogue nearly crushing him in two.

"You got…. Umph… a little stronger," Quancy squeaked.

Trysh let go of the rogue, "And you got dumber," Trysh fought back the tears forming in her eyes, "You could have been killed."

"So," the rogue said bluntly.

Tunaster's eyes darted between the two but he decided not to butt in.

"I'm not a little girl in need of your heroics anymore Quancy," she said spinning her right arm slowly letting the torchlight glimmer slowly over it, "I can take care of myself."

Quancy closed his eyes and took a breath before he asked, "Until you need another fix."

Trysh's eyes filled with rage as her hand grasp the bony neck of the rogue. Tunaster took a step and clasped his hands around the metallic arm of the woman but his effort to loosen the grip was fruitless.

"You left me… and I didn't care anymore. I gave in to the pain you cause me," Trysh mumbled absently thinking back to her past but still constricting the neck of the rogue, "This is the only thing that makes the pain go away now."

Quancy tried to squirm out of the grasp but couldn't as he gasped, "I'll… help… you."

Trysh let him go and shook her head, "I'm a monster now… only a god can help me now."

"That's not true Trysh," Qunacy said he gulped for air, "That piece of metal doesn't make you any less of a person than I am."

Trysh shook her head, "You didn't see the others."

"What others?" Tunaster and Quancy said in unison.

"The others like me," Trysh said starring at the doorway, "They saved me after I had my arm crush on a trap… I needed gold for more Agony…"

Quancy growled lowly but let the woman continue, "I awoke here with this thing for an arm but I wasn't the only one… there were two others that had parts of constructs on them but the other two… lost their minds." Then Trysh added in a whisper of a voice, "We were forced to kill them."

"We or you, Trysh," Quancy demanded.

Trysh didn't answer as a cloud of silence engulfed the room.

Tunaster frowned. The art of meshing golem parts to humans was once thought revolutionary and practical. Some scholars even felt that it would be commonplace but the handful of mages that attempt the craft either ended up slaughtered by their creations or arrested after their creation had gone on a murderous rampages. In no study that Tunaster had read had a half-golem been successful completed and perhaps the woman that stood before him was the most accomplished to date. But Tunaster knew that she was still as unstable as a three legged table and most likely bound to crash soon or later.

"We need to make our move," Quancy said, "What is the plan."

"We press forward," a soft voice said from outside the door after seeing her long shadow stretch into the room the contrarily petite body of Rose appeared with Ojas and an unconscious guardsman behind the pair. "Something is very odd about this place… the further I have come the more I can sense the… lack of balance in it."

"Tunaster," Quancy barked, "You stay here."

The cleric started to protest but the tiefling continued, "You still are not well and if worse comes the worse you can head back and tell those you know about what is happening. I doubt any of us have anywhere near the amount of sway you do."

Tunaster nodded slightly, "I suppose but..."

Ojas clenched his fist around his spear, "And take the woman with you."

Trysh snarled, "I don't take orders…"

"You killed those men out there," Ojas said pointing behind him, "For what?"

"If I hadn't they would have killed me," Trysh argued.

Ojas smiled, "One who fights for themselves will ever only please themselves."

Quancy cracked his knuckles calmly, "This is no time for bickering. We need a plan."

"What other options are there. We rush the door and overwhelm them," Ojas said bluntly, "All of us aren't assassins."

"All of us aren't marauders either," Quancy said cruelly, "I'm sure you just want to keep anyone that could testify against you silenced when you sail of with all the goods from this Temple."

"Stop," Rose demanded, "This is solving nothing."

The group all growled collectively.

"I think Tryshra needs to come," Rose said meekly, "She's very strong and hasn't hurt any of us…"

"Yet," Ojas added as Rose ignored him and continued.

"This area seems like the ummm… camp," Rose said unsure, "I think that the only way we'll ever find out what is really happening here is to find the leader of the Temple."

Tryshra nodded, "Starweaver Fembrys is in the inner temple every night till dawn preaching about the secret, unknowable powers of Mystra."

"So he listens to reason," Rose asked.

Tryshra shrugged.

Quancy suggested, "Anyone listens to reason when their life is on the line."

"Aye," Ojas added calmly raising his spear over his head.

"Then it's settled," Quancy sadi as he walked toward the door, "let's hope that luck is on our side."

* * *

The moment Tryshra opened the door mayhem reigned. The two guards that sat at either side of the door swung their long swords at the warrior but she deflected the shots off her oversized metallic arm. Then she lunged at the guard to her left, crushing the hand he held his sword in all in a single brutal motion and sent the blade crashing to the black tiled ground. Ojas rushed through the doorway a breath after the blades deflected of Tryshra and slipped passed the remaining guard at the doorway as he called out to the spirits of the sky sending a burst of powerful wind through the door along with him and bowled over the seven petitioners that stood wild eyed at the intruders. The large heavy set man behind the altar stood firmly in place glaring at the intruders.

"How dare you come and soil holy ground," yelled the priest holding a pure black orb in his hand, "The Lady will make sure you all pay for your trespasses."

Then with practice skill the hefty cleric called forth a prayer that caused a burst of blackness to rupture from around the cleric and outward to throughout the room sending a chill down both Ojas and Trysh's spines as their minds were momentarily filled with thoughts of retreat. Ojas wiped beads of sweat from his forehead as he stopped in his tracks fighting the thoughts of running out of the room but could not stop his feet from taking severalpaces backwards. The other guard's blade crashing into the hardened leather armor of the shaman sending all thoughts of escape out of his mind. Ojas swept the blunt end of his spear into the side of guard sending him reeling backwards into a column.

The windblown petitioners had regained their balance as Rose and Quancy slipped in, the rogue on the side that Trysh rolled around with the guard on and Rose to opposite. Rose mentally reached inside of herself and tried to muster the feeling she felt when she had manifested the spell that caused people to shrink. As she closed her eyes focusing on the cleric she noticed the blank stares of the petitioners.

"I think they've been dominated," Quancy said as he swung his quarterstaff at the last moment to fend off the charge of one of the visitors.

Ojas swung his spear's blunt end to his side as one of the petitioners dove for him. Then he heard the sound of casting he turned and changed his charge from the cleric to the spellcaster only to meet the eyes of his captain.

"Veera," Ojas said as he lowered his spear as Veera finished her spell and flung a dripping, green orb that pierced the tattered leather armor he wore. Ojas double over in pain, "What are you doing?"

"The mysteries of the Lady have filled her mind and she now sees everything for what it is," Fembrys said with a self satisfied grin across his face all too eager to watch the demise of the intruders, "Send this unbeliever to the depths of the Abyss, now."

Veera nodded absently and began to chant another spell.

Rose stopped calling the magic that laid dormant inside her heart and grabbed the sling that sat on her side along with a rock for the pouch and with all the force the frail girl could muster flung the lopsided stone at the caster.

As the stone flew through the air a high pitched scream came from it and just as it hit the woman a clasp of lightning crawled through the ceiling and hit the caster. Rose shrunk into the corner near her in unison with the woman crumbling to her knees not only from the sense of responsibility from probably killing an innocent woman that Ojas cared about but from the quartet of yellow eyes that suddenly peered from the darkest corner of the room.

As the petitioners grabbed and attempted to forced the other intruders to the ground Fembrys stood calmly and watched. Ojas knelt on one knee as a trio of men circled him, all wielding torches from the columns as clubs. All Ojas could do was deflect the swings with his spear and keep them out of range. Trysh had finally knocked the guard unconscious and was making her way to help Quancy who was pinned on the ground by a one of the women visitors while one of the other visitors finished a spell that seemed to make the tiefling's eyes droop lazily and lose his coordination.

Trysh grabbed the caster by the hair with her normal arm and pierced her gory steel one through the throat of the woman but the spell effect had already taken affect and Quancy was fast asleep. The woman that had taken him to the ground turned her attention to Trysh as the last petitioner sneak behind the women with a stone torch at the ready.

Just as the woman swung the makeshift club at the warrior Rose snapped out of her fright and yelled, "Watch out, Trysh," then touched the beaded necklace around her neck and pulled a splinter that was stuck in her clothes then recited a spell as she threw the splinter. The small piece of wood flew through the air and grew until it hit the torch wielder in the back piercing through the woman's heart as a piece of the wood stuck through the front and back of the woman.

Trsyh had ducked as the woman had swung the torch which hit the other visitor setting her hair aflame. Trysh shoved the flaming crowned woman out of her way and pulled Quancy of the ground and over her shoulder.

After a half a dozen swings a piece from the trio of men, Ojas soon figure out the man to his left was the weakest and most timid of the combatants. Added to the fact that he looked like a merchant gave the shaman the sense that he was their chain's weakest link, Ojas had found his way out of bondage. Ojas feint opposite of the merchant who took a few steps in toward him but then as he let out a thundering growl he let his momentum carry him through the fake move and around toward the man's neck.

Rose gasped as she readied another stone in her trembling hand. Ojas' blade went clean through the neck of one of the petitioners, who crumbled to the ground his neck spraying blood out like a spring geyser.

The heavy set cleric moved into action as the tide was turning from his overwhelmed folk. He muttered a hasty incantation as his grey eyes burrowed into Rose's mind then shouted as he ended the spell, "Fall to your knees, child," with so much authority and power the druidess felt as if the breath from his mouth bowled her over.

After tripping one of the remaining petitioners, Ojas brought his spear into the ankle of the man, embedding the weapon between the grout of the tile below. Ojas then dodged a barrage of swings from the makeshift club as he moved toward the cleric then he began to beckon the spirits of the storms again to make themselves known.

The cleric turned his gaze from the fallen girl toward the women racing to place the horned rogue out of harm's way them began to chant another spell that brought forth in the woman's mind her greatest fears and made them seem real.

Rose sat up and watched as swirl of dusty wind pushed back the last remaining petitioner and as Tryshra curled up on the ground tears filling and spilling to the cold, black floor.

"This madness ends now," Rose said rising to her feet as she balled her fist and charged toward the cleric. Fembrys, caught offguard by the girl's sheer boldness took his first step in any direction as the girl raced toward him. Rose dove over the waist high altar and into the cleric, tackling the larger man and knocking the breath from his lungs out of him.

"Ojas," Rose cried out as she struggled on the floor with the breathless cleric, dodging wild swings and trying to maintain some sense of control over the larger man.

The shaman raced over and without a second thought placed the heel of his foot in the side of the cleric's jaw, "Let him try to call prayers to his goddess now."

* * *

Rose stood up slowly surveying the room but could not see the four yellow dots she had before and tried to convince herself that she was not seeing things. All she now knew was that the door behind the altar was now opened… and she could have sworn that it was closed when the four ran into the room.

"It was just your eyes readjusting," Ojas affirmed the girl, "I have had enough contact with lightning to know as much."

"And the door," Rose said as she wrapped a bandage around the shaman's side.

Ojas shrugged.

"Don't… touch… me…" Trysh moaned her repeated plea from her cocoon.

"A fear spell," Ojas told the girl, "It'll wear off soon… and the tiefling's sleepiness."

"I am… awake," Quancy said dreaily, "No thanks to you, pirate."

Ojas grinned and helped the rogue to his feet and leaned him against the altar opposite of the unconscious Fembrys.

The rogue glared at the object in the cleric's hand and reach and pulled it free, "This is…" the tiefling began and then stopped.

Rose's eyes rose questioning while Ojas put words to the look, "That is what?"

"Nothing," the rogue lied, "I thought it was something it is not."

"Like what, thief," Ojas demanded.

"If you want valuables, Quancy, you may take whatever portion I would get," Rose offered then wondered if they were taking anything.

"Rose," Ojas placed a hand on her shoulder, "He is lying. He knows something… I think that thing did something to Veera."

Rose nodded slightly staring at the bloody yet still breathing woman that laid in the middle of the floor between Tryshra and the trio. "What is it, Quancy. You can trust us."

Quancy mentally scuffed at the idea. Although neither of them had done anything to not be trusted, Quancy knew the true nature of people, they were selfish at their core. What he knew about the orb was not leaving his own mind.

"Just that is looks like a part that belonged on an ancient statue a long time ago… but that one held stars inside. This one has nothing but darkness. But I like it… and would like to keep it as a memento. You can treat it as part of my booty alright, Cap'n."

Ojas shrugged again and stared at the darkness inside the dorrway ahead of him.


	10. Fear

**Chapter Nine **

**"Fear"**

_"Never fear shadows... they simply mean there's a light somewhere nearby shining."_**  
**

The four took each step down the bending stairway with more care and caution than the previous one before it. Quancy held his ebony staff over his head hardly concentrating on the globes of light revolving around him and his companions. Tryshra stood behind him holding her arm up to keep it from hitting the stone stairs on her way down while Ojas was in lock step with the warrior, his spear held out prodding the darkness. Rose followed up the rear with a weary expression etched across her face but with her sling at her side ready and loaded with another stone. She reminded herself she only had six left and given the reaction that her first shot caused, she needed to make sure she made every stone count as her eyes peered about the descending stairway and avoiding the creeping thoughts of the structure caving in on her.

Ojas motioned for the druidess to hurry down and Rose nodded then forced her bare feet to obey. The stairs turned sharply in two directions and both turned in the opposite direction after several feet and descended deeper into the ground. Rose sworn that it seemed to get much darker and more importantly much smaller after each step she took. Rose's every breath become a struggle as she stood on the platform that lead to the two opposing stairways.

Quancy glared at the girl and put a finger to his lips. Only then did Rose notice how loud she was inhaling. Rose covered her mouth while Ojas pointed for Trysh to go to the other stair way and waved the rogue with him.

Trysh grabbed the girl's arm and lead her to the stairs on their right and pointed at the top step then to the girl several times. Rose nodded understanding that she needed to remain there and keep watch as the warrior walked the dozen steps into the gloomy room beneath. Rose couldn't make out much of the room, it was so dark in most of it but anyone with any semblance of sight could notice the blue glow emanating from the human sized statue that stood in the middle of the stone room. All around the statue stood piles of debris, most of which the druidess couldn't discern but she could tell that most of it wasn't useful anymore after spotting handfuls of torn up tomes and chucks of worked stone.

Quancy stood atop the other set of stairs and watched as the shaman and the warrior moved over the debris laden floor with soft steps trying to avoid any unseen pitfalls. The rogue unveiled a shimmering dagger from a pouch that seemed far too small to fit the weapon normally while Rose tried to keep her hands from quivering.

Tryshra's eyes circled the room as she stopped on the side of an odd statue that rested just outside of the blue radiance, then rest a hand on the rough stone work as her eyes meet Quancy seeming to wonder what to do next. Quancy's lavender eyes grew twice their size and in less than a heartbeat he sent the glimmer blade careening downward toward the statue.

"Get back," Quancy yelled as he sprinted down the stairway, "It's…"

The stone lurched, its hand reaching out toward the woman. Ojas ran over to the creatures side and stab at it with his spear sending piece of the hard sod of the creature. The beast growled as he missed grasping the warrior. Trysh ducked under the hand and awkwardly rolled to the creatures side then punched at the stone beat with her abnormal arm. Rose had started to head down the stairs after seeing Ojas run across the room and then hearing the sounds of the combat only to have her path stopped by a temple guard.

"You don't belong here little girl," the guard said as he reach to grabbed the girl. Rose dodged the smirking guard whose skin looked unnaturally gray lacking any kind of true color at all.

Then Rose saw another guard with the same pigmentation skulk behind the wall toward where Ojas headed. Rose turned and stumbled up the stairs hoping that she could get some distance between her and the shadow faced guardsmen.

Ojas stepped back as the creature eyes him lividly. Then the creature that stood a head taller than the shaman clasped his hands together and swung down on Ojas. The shaman dodged to the left at the last minute but the creatures oversized fist still connected with him sending the shaman tumbling on the ground from the blow. Quancy muttered an incantation as he stared at the shadows on the ground then as the creature hit the shaman a weave of inky darkness covered the sinister object. Ojas rolled to his knee as he saw the creature covered in what to him looked like a net made of shadows. Trysh grabbed at the creatures feet and pulled it from under him sending a thunderous tremor through the room.

"So much for stealth," Quancy said as he ran forward and grabbed his dagger.

"Indeed," a deep voice spoke before emerging from the shadows with a slender sword in one hand and a thick steel shield in the other, "You should leave that to those that the Lady has blessed."

Quancy took a step back to gather his dagger in a defensive position as the gray guard rushed toward him with his sword held over his head. Trysh punched into the darkness on the ground furiously occasionally landing a punch from the deafening clang of metal hitting solid stone. Ojas stood up as he saw the druidess dash down the opposite stairs she had once stood on, her eyes filled with terror. Ojas gripped his spear and limped forward in an effort to intercept what he assumed what chasing the girl. Nothing came as the druidess circled behind him and raised her sling at the ready toward the darkness.

The rogue deflected the first slash by the guardsmen as he pleaded, "You have been duped, no here truly worships Mystra… I am here to help you."

The guard scoffed as he swung brutally at the tiefling's head, "A demonkin has come to help… and I am King Azoun himself."

Quancy ducked the attack which scraped against the wall behind the thief as he continued to plead, "Look at what they did to you… the taint of the darkness is on you as much as it is on me."

The guard paused a moment as the rogue maneuvered away from the incoming corner and toward the stairs. The black, lifeless eyes of the guard closed, "Mystra's hand touch me… she said none would understand."

Quancy shook his head, "I wouldn't… but I doubt that it was Mystra's hand that..."

"Liar," the guard screamed as he rushed toward the rogue with a furry of slashes aimed wildly.

Rose finally giving up hope that the guard she saw… or thought she saw was still coming for her she aimed her sling at the ball of shadow and let loss the stone.

The stone creature was released from the mesh of inkiness and rested in crumbles on the ground as the warrior punch at it still. Rose ignore the woman and saw the rogue in trouble across the room then place another stone in her sling and let it lose. The guard moved, unintentionally out of the way of the stone trying to hit the elusive rogue. Ojas charged the guard with his spear held out in front of his mid section. The spearhead staggered of the hue-less armor of the guard with a sickening toll. Rose fired another stone then cursed her aim as it flew a few inches over the guard.

"Why continue this fight," Quancy asked as he used his staff to deflect one blow then his dagger to parry another, "You are outmanned and outmatched."

"Mystra's grace will be with me even in death," the guard said as he feigned a cross slash then brought the hilt of his blade down on the hand of the rogue sending the staff the was once in his hand and the orbs of light the danced around him to the ground.

Ojas punctured the guards back with a well placed stab between the plates of the guard but it did nothing to stop the gray swirl from attack the rogue.

Quancy kicked at the guards shin but it did nothing but leave him open for a well paced slash across his shoulder which opened up and bled out in a few heartbeats.

Rose clenched her eyes close as she released her forth stone and didn't open them until she heard the crunch of thuder fill the room. As she opened her eyes slowly she saw nothing but a black and gray and red pool twisted on the ground and for a moment she thought she had hit the rogue. Then she noticed a small horn in the pile move.

Ojas pushed the gray figure off the tiefling and tried to pull the rogue up forget about the wounds he had suffered and fell down next to the rogue.

Rose paced inside the stone tile she stood on filling her leather sling with another pebble bullet, her sandstone eyes searching from the other temple guard feverishly.

Tryshra kicked a thick piece of the creature as she stood up, "What in the name of the Abyss was that thing."

Quancy and Ojas shrugged as they gathered themselves.

"An earth elemental," Rose said quietly still ongaurd for the black eyed shade, "It wasn't a normal on though."

Tryshra looked down at the piecemeal elemental, "Why do you think it attacked us."

"Everything here smells," Rose stopped and sniffed as she thought of the right word, "Spoiled."

"Tainted," added Ojas, "The spirits here are incoherent."

Rose started to say something.

"They don't speak with their right mind," Ojas clarified.

Rose nodded as she informed, "There are more of those shadowy temple guards… well at least one."

Tryshra grabbed the blade from the guard nearest her that lay between the pile of elemental and the spinning druidess, "Let's sniff him out then. Must be afraid of us."

"Nothing of the sort," a voice circled the cavernous room, "I like the intrigue of stalking my prey, Tryshra Alvere."

The woman growled loudly running the blade along the wall of the stone room, "Tell me exactly what is going on here, now."

"Mystra reveals herself to those who are ready," the guard said deeply, "Those with the patience to wait."

"The cleric is dead there is no one here for you to defend anymore," Rose informed.

The guard laughed, "Starweaver Fembrys was just the face of the temple and although Arthas will be sorrowful for his lose, we have seen many of the less faithful fall before."

Ojas stood up completely and made his way to the center of the room slowly, "We have no quarrel… we just want to know…"

"Then you have a quarrel," the voice said agaited, "The right to know comes with time. I have been faithful since the days before the temple was even finish and just lay as a mere foundation and even I don't know all. The Lady of Mysteries shows us what we need to know."

Tryshra growled as she swung at a shadowy corner hitting nothing, "She even reveals your death, coward."

"To die for Mystra is all but gain," the voice said solemnly.

"No god or goddess worth worship would practice such… fatalism," Quancy said clenching a hand over his wound.

Ojas motioned for Rose to move back toward Quancy and whispered, "He might need a touch from your green fingers."

Rose nodded and dashed over to the rogue.

"Is there a name you wish to be known by when the dungeon delver come across your corpse," Ojas asked.

"Before I saw Mystra's glory I was known as Rythad but those days are long past, Ojas Indra Windseer."

The shaman gritted his teeth, "Why are the spirits here in such discord."

The voice didn't answer.

"I guess you are too tired to answer," Ojas said and called out to the spirits for an exchange, the power to call down lightning from above.

Rose wrapped her arms around the tiefling as the room filled with light and a huge bolt crawled through the ceiling and crashed through a figure the stood directly behind Ojas. The guard, now unveiled, stood completely still for a moment then his legs gave way as he crashed to the floor.

"This is what faith gets you," Quancy said looking at the two bodies and Rose finished her casting to seal the rogue's wounds.


	11. Gwyn

**_Chapter Ten "Gwyn"_**

_"Love is stronger than death even though it can't stop death from happening, but no matter how hard death tries it can't separate people from love. It can't take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death."_

After searching through the rubble which consisted of Mystran religious objects that were destroyed in varying degrees and finding nothing of use in the stone room and only a few scrolls that "looked promising" to the rogue along with one that he couldn't decipher that he reluctantly gave to Rose all of which were in the adjoining library to the west of the room. Ojas, Rose and Tryshra moved back to the stone room and watched as the rogue plugged the hole of a door lock with a strange pin.

"It needs a bishop's curl," Tryshra said absently as the rogue struggled with the lock.

"And when did you take up the Petty Art," Quancy mocked, "If I remember correctly you were just a face."

"Aye," Tryshra nodded, "But that was when I was a girl. I've seen enough people like yourself practice the 'Petty Art' that I've learned a little here and there."

Ojas shook his head, "Just try the blizzard's curl."

"Bishop's," the tiefling and the woman said in unison.

Ojas shrugged, "Just try it," the shaman's skin pricked from the chill in the air, "The spirits here are restless and the faster we find out what exactly is happening and how to fix Veera, the better."

The rogue patted a thumb sized pouch on his belt and mumbled an odd word making a rung of his lockpicks vanish then touched another of the pouches, spoke another word and another set of odd coils and pin on a key ring appeared.

"Is that a common item," Rose whispered to Ojas. The shaman shook his head from side to side. Rose frowned, "That's too bad seems kind of handy, my pack is crushing my back."

Ojas couldn't help but smile.

The door clicked and opened after a moment of jiggling the winding piece of iron in the key hole.

Tryshra grinned.

"Lucky guess is all," Quancy said waving his hand. "We have to be careful in here. Trysh and I will go in and you two can wait here."

Ojas tapped his spear on the ground, "We don't need two rearguards and what are you going to do if there are more guards inside… cower in a corner."

The rogue reached at his side to the pouch Rose knew he kept his dagger in and the druidess stepped between the two males, "I'll keep watch out here and all three of you search in there… it looks like there are two doors anyway so each of you can search a room. Okay?"

The two males stood in silence for a moment before noticing that Tryshra was already inside the door and headed to door on the opposite side of the small square room holding only a table with four chairs around it.

"I'll search the room to left, teifling," Ojas commanded, "You look for any clues in this one."

Rose smiled at the tiefling. Quancy closed his eyes in defeat and started to look in the room.

Trysh's scream startled the trio and the two males raced into the room she had entered.

"Star's blind us," Ojas oathed as he entered the rank room. The rooms meticulously made bed covered in Calistite silk and thick ironwood bureau carefully covered in various antiques from across Faerun clashed with the eight heads that were mounted on the wall farthest from the door.

"Typical priest," Quancy said calmly as he walked into the room and began methodically looking at the objects.

"Are those," Tryshra spoke as the color returned to her face, "Human heads."

"Human heads," Rose said curiously from across the open door less than a few strides from the room.

"Nothing, Rose," Ojas said trying to keep the quavering from his voice, "We just… found some odd things in here is all." As Rose took a step toward them Ojas added, "You keep watch okay, we don't need another of those shadow people sneaking up on us."

Rose nodded and looked out into the room's blue shimmering glow.

"I found a note," Quancy said loud enough for even Rose to hear and read the letter word for word, "The latest set of petitioners awaits disposition down in the river dungeon and don't steal any for your 'studies' Fembrys or you'll find your head on a wall. –Arthas."

Ojas growled, "That bastard did this to these people," and secretly he wished he'd gutted the man when he had the chance instead of tying him up in the room above them.

Trysh stepped in the room and scavenged the articles as well but systematically avoided touching any of the objects use for preserving the heads and made it a point to walk out of arms length of the jar of glass eyes that rested inside a formerly clasped compartment of the bureau.

Ojas waved another parchment from under the priest's bed, "This one says that 'I am tired of this farce… while the harlot gets praised the true one is ignored and never mentioned."

After finding another half a dozen more notes and clips most mentioning "the true one" the trio ended their search finding nothing else of real use.

"Who is Harlot," Rose asked as the trio emerged from the other room which was bare outside of a bed and a desk that was completely empty.

Tryshra gave the druids a half smile, "A harlot is someone not worthy of trust."

"Oh," Rose said quietly taking that thought in then asked, "Is Mystra worthy of trust?"

Silence filled the stone room.

Ojas finally answered, "The man that taught me everything I know about life, the seas, magic and spirits that intertwine in all of these lived most of his life as one of the faithless until the day we became caught in the midst of a dangerous storm. He was thrown of the ship… only him and none of the other crew. Veera was heartbroken and blamed herself claiming that it was her penance for the crimes she had committed in the past. She docked the Blue Maiden in Mordulkin, the City of Mages and after a few weeks of soul searching she informed us, her crew that she was ending their way of life…"

"Piracy is a dangerous business," Quancy interrupted.

Ojas gave the tiefling a death glare but continued, "Nearly the entire crew decided to continue to follow her, most of us would follow her to our death if she ever demanded it of us… which she most likely never would. And as when boarded the Blue Maiden a taller, shaggy haired figure stood on the mast. Arlas." The spirit shaman close his eyes, the image still fresh in his mind, "Since that day four years ago he has claimed that the hand of the Goddess of all Magics protected him and although she never called him to worship her or give himself to her, like some other gods might, he decided that if he had to trust one deity it would be her."

Rose smiled, "That how the clerics of Tower of Mysteries talk about her too. They even accepted me even though I didn't even worship her. They said 'the heart of anyone that respects magic worships her in deed, indeed.'"

Quancy scowled, "The gods are just tyrants… nothing more." Before anyone else could argue the thief turned and walked to a door the stood high into the wall opposite of the dual stairway, "We need more than a few scribbled notes before the Purple Dragons will take us seriously."

"But…" Rose started as the thief pressed the door open and disappeared into it, "We have Fembrys…"

* * *

The small figure with a mop of unkempt hair so long that it dragged along the ground stared up at the woman that hung upside down on the roof and giggled, "Ya look funny like dat, Missus."

The woman fought the natural reaction to scold the girl. Not a girl, the woman had to remind herself… not a girl any longer at least.

"Gwyneth, have you finished all your chores,' the woman asked closing the thick tome she held in one of her bony hands and had been reading before being interrupted.

"Aye, Missus," the endearing voice informed, "I's feed Stinky and takes food to da people getting' ready ta rides wiff Missur Mhair. I's tells Toof, Nail, Tail and Sniffer ta makes sure dems stays by da bad place and makes sure nones of the new peoples goes near it."

"Good, Gwyn," the woman said with a satisfied grin then waved at the oversized, slick black cloak and hovered to the ground landing without a sound in front of the waist high gray skinned juvenile creature, "What about my friends across the hall."

"Big Wings ain't berry happy," Gwen informed, "Hims been tryin' ta get out all night… but hims just gets here… hims not used to living wiff us yet and I's sawed dat Missus' really, really big toy is still workin'."

The woman nodded as she patted the shaggy headed creature that stood only as high as the pale skinned woman's waist.

"Da Missur wiff red fer hairs sleeps all day… hims not even eats da soup I's makes. I's makes it berry good likes I's 'pose to too."

"He'll get hungry soon enough," the woman said looking into the depthless black eyes of the creature, "I need you to go and make sure Fembrys…"

Gwyn's sluggish skin above for eyebrows furled.

The woman exhaled, "The Big Mean One…"

"Oh," the blue lips of the creature curved.

"Makes sure he is not playing with my… our new friends."

Gwen nodded, "'Kay… um… Missus?"

The woman hide her exasperation, "Yes, Gwen?"

"You's not let anything happens ta me," Gwen said as she wrapped her arms around the legs of the gaunt woman.

The woman ran her hand through the tangled creature's hair, "You belong to me and I won't let anyone hurt anything of mine."

* * *

Gwyn smiled as she released the woman and skipped out of the room.

Gwyn skipped through the dark hallway. She always liked to skip… at least she thought she always liked to skip. Like most thoughts she had she was never certain. She sometimes had pictures in her head of places that her protector she had come to know as Misses wasn't present but she knew that couldn't be… she had always been Misses' child.

Gywn's eyes squinted as a noise from in front of her held her feet firmly to the ground.

Peoples is comin', she thought to herself and moved behind one of the six dark stone figure of a woman that stretch from the floor to near the roof several times taller than the small being that set about ten paces apart from each other on each side of the hallway.

"We need more than just the priest," a hushed voice came from through the doorway.

A voice that sounded youthful rang in the head of Gwyn, "Blood only yields more blood," the voice pleaded. Gwyn's already sluggish heart beat stalled for a moment as it filled with a rush of emotion.

Friends, Gwyn thought to herself and took a step toward the door than stopped remembering the task that Missus had left her with.

"We will only go this far," a third voice aid. Definitely man, Gwyn recognized and immediately stepped back into the shadows of the towering statue as she unconsciously wrung her hands together. Gywn turned and took a step toward her mistress but then the blue light of the room that sat at the foot of the stairway that lead overheard to the place that Gwyn wasn't allowed to go to, flooded the dark hallway for a moment then dissipated like fog in the midday sun.

"Hmph," a tall male with an even taller weapon that Gwyn vaguely remembered was used to capture fish with grumbled, "Ominous."

"The Hallway of Night," a taciturn voice said from behind the male. Gwyn's eyes exploded.

"Long-Armed Lady," Gwyn exclaimed before giving any thought. She immediately covered her mouth and slide up against the statue.

The sound of metal fitted boots resounded in the hallway. Gwyn's heart stopped as she held her breath. The tall man with the silver headed weapon on a stick dashed past her. Gwyn held still.

"What was that," the friendliest of the voices inquired.

"I'm… not… sure," the woman with a shaded steel arm that resembled that of her mistress' favorite toy. Even though it was a boy's toy in Gwyn's mind, a soldier in armor, Gwyn could see why Missus liked it so much since it could fly after all.

A smaller male that looked like a baby demon stood between Gwyn and the opposite statue. His eyes meet hers and though she could never be sure, she somehow knew he saw her through the darkness.

Gwyn dove at the male's leg which was only guarded by a thick but albeit non-protective layer of fabric. Inherently Gwyn's teeth pierced into the thigh of the man.

The smallest of the group, who still would tower of Gwyn reach at her side for something. Gwyn released her mouthful of man's thigh and zig-zagged backward only to run up against a cold, metallic object.

With the point of his spear pressed into the back of the creature, Ojas demanded, "What are you?"

"G-G-Gwyn…" she stuttered as the two females swept to either side of her.

"Gwyneth," the long armed woman said distantly, "You belong to…"

"Missus," Gwyn interrupted, "And so do you. She gives you dat arm there… cause you ain't had one when you came here."

Trysh's eyes glared at the creature trying to piece together the memories buried deep in her own mind, "I want it off." Trysh's natural fist clinched, "Now."

Quancy grimaced as he swept his staff toward the face of Gwyn sending several balls of jovial lights circling the girl, "I should send you back to the A…" the rogue nearly bit his tongue on his unfinished sentence.

"She's not really a girl," Rose said as she reached out to touch Gwyn. Ojas stuck his spear in between the Rose and the creature, "Don't she could be contagious like a mummy."

"She is," growled the tiefling as he reached down to his thigh and gripped it tightly, "Or so I have read."

"What are you," Rose asked Gwyn.

"I's a Gwyneth… I's already told you and I's belong to Missus."

Rose tilted her head, "You can't be a zombie… you are too smart."

Gwyn smiled at the comment, "I's the Missus' most special helper… I's do everythin' for her. I's cooks and I's clean and I's even makes sure no one goes to da bad place."

Ojas snapped, "What bad place. Where?"

Gwyn's eyebrow scrunched, "Who send you… Da Big Mean One send you?"

Rose was about to answer but Quancy was quicker, "He isn't feeling well… he gave us a message for you Missus."

Rose looked over at the rogue with her mouth open for a second as Ojas added, "It is very important."

"I can tells her," Gwyn said leaping from one foot to the other, "You stay here… I's go tell her, 'kay."

"No," Trysh stomped her foot, "We must tell her… it has to do with Mystra's Sacred Trust."

The creature giggled and darted under the legs of Trysh and raced toward the door, "Mystra…. You's funny… I's go tells Missus."

As the creature dashed through the door it cracked open as she came near it and slammed shut as she passed through all on its own volition.

"Spirits help us," Ojas muttered as he slammed into the closing door a step behind the creature.

"Nine Hells," the rogue oathed as he held his black robe up over his knees, "I think it's infected."

"What was she," Rose asked still in the same place she was before.

Quancy let the hem of his robe down and muttered, "An undead child… they are commonly known as slaymate."

Rose's brown eyes filled with an influx of emotion as she mouthed, "Why?"

"They are formed when the spirit of someone that needs protection is violated," Quancy said, "Lore says that one cannot be freed until those that abandoned it to die a dreadful and lonely demise has been appropriately treated."

Ojas muttered, "Or mistreated."

Rose swallowed as she asked the rogue-wizard, "What do you think happened to her… she doesn't seem bad."

"Something horrific must have… it could have been 5 days or 5 centuries ago and I wouldn't judge her so callously just yet… those that have been called back from the darker planes are only as kind as those that animate them, Rose."

* * *

Arthas glared at the undead girl, "You are jesting?"

"Nope, Missus," Gwyn said as eriously as she could, "I's knows you ain't like jokes."

"How many?"

"Um," Gwyn thoughtfully looked down at one for her hands and counted all but one finger, "Four, I think… yeah. Four. One of is really big… almost as big as Missus' favorite toy… umm and two of 'em are girls… oh!" Gwyn exclaimed and hopped from one foot to the other.

"What, Gwyn," Arthas said losing patience.

"Long Armed Lady is wiff 'em," Gwyn nodded and them added, "And a boy wiff horns on his head."

"Some type of demon or demonbred… this should prove interesting. Send the skeletons," Gwyn looked up confused as the spellcaster rephrased her demand, "Bring Sniffer and his friends to me."

Gywn nodded as her eyes gazed up directly into Arthas' eyes attentively.

"Go and place the gem on my toy across the hall… hopefully I won't need it. And be sure to keep them from going through the door that leads to the 'Bad Place'."

"Yes, Missus," Gwyn said with a nodded and skipped out of the room to accomplish her tasks. Arthas spoke a powerful word and formed a thick tome in her hand, as she filled it open she began to call forth power from it cover herself in tendrils of blackness.


	12. Arthas

**Chapter Eleven "Arthas"**

**_"_**_We will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.**"**_

The web of black shadows startled Rose most as she entered the room. For the other three companions the statuesque skeletons of what could have only been lizardfolk was most astonishing. The room that the slaymate had lead them to was simple in layout holding only a chair and table but both appeared to be quite antique, Quancy assumed that they were of elven design along with a matching bookcase filled with books on its first three shelves and a number of small sculptures and other curios on the top two as well as on top of it. The room opened into another room that was almost half filled with a bed large enough for troll but much of the other features were obscured by the dancing blackness.

"Where is this 'Missus' of yours," Ojas demanded.

"I am right here," an enchanting voice spoke from the darkness, "And please cease from trying to intimidate my beloved."

Trysh's heart began to race at twice its pace at the sound of her voice. She clenched her eyes trying to fight back the thoughts and feeling that her voice invoked in her. Of all the pain that it caused her.

"That's your job, I assume," Ojas spat as he gripped his spear tightly in both his bloody hands.

Arthas laughed as she said, "My Gywnneth is like a daughter to me," then with a smile in her voice added, "Isn't that right Trysh?"

The druid looked over a Trysh whose eyes turned away from the accusing darkness then Rose's eyes darted to the undead child and saw the girl nod at the comment and for a brief moment wondered what it would have been like if she had ever been with her mother. She could have never felt the type of bond that Gwyn and this woman apparently had with her father.

"But you are not here to defend Gwyn are you," Arthas said evenly, "What is you seek?"

"You," Quancy said over Ojas.

"Me," Arthas' bony hand went to her chest, "You are so glib. I have heard of the silver tongue that your kind possess."

"We found people being controlled in the temple above," Rose said.

"Our Lady commands many," Arthas said as a tendril of the shadows leaped throw the ceiling, "It is the endowment of the god's power."

Trysh frowned and held her hand as more pain devoured at the corners of her mind.

"These people appeared to be dominated magically," Ojas said as he took a long step forward toward the shadow web, "Including the captain of the ship I work and live on."

"I see," Arthas said thoughtfully, "And you are here to…"

"Put an end to it," Ojas said forcefully pointing the end of his spear at the heart of the shadows.

Arthas allowed the shadows to fall from above her neck of a moment and smiled, "And you wish to do this by compelling me with a fisherman's tool?"

"We just want to know what is happening," Rose said, "The priest had an item… a black ball."

Quancy interrupted the druidess, "We know that you don't serve Mystra."

Rose's eye furrowed at Quancy. She hadn't come to that conclusion. Although she knew that whatever and whoever they worship was perverse, they had little proof in her eyes they didn't worship Mysstra. Although she knew little of the gods outside of nature she was painfully aware of the bloodshed between them in the cause toward their view on nature… most specifically between her Earthmother and Silvanus.

"We just want them freed," Rose added.

"I would love to do that," Arthas said as the black fog covered her again.

"Good then…" Ojas said but was interrupted.

"But the problem is that our Lady won't let us," Arthas said as the skeleton rose the weapons that they held at the sides and the double sided door they entered the room through slammed shut.

"Nine Hells," cursed Quancy, "It's a trap." He swiftly unlatched the quarterstaff on his back and took a defensive stance while Rose who stood between him and Trysh grasped for her sling.

Three of the four skeletons dashed toward Ojas with their weapon held over their skulls. The fourth armed with a shortbow placed an arrow from his quiver in his bow and aimed it toward the shaman. Ojas stabbed the blunt end of his staff to the ground and called out to the spirits of the storm as he had in the stone room but the arrowhead piercing into the small of his back interrupted the beckoning.

Rose had placed the sixth stone into her sling and hurled it at the skeleton in the far corner wielding the bow. The bones cracked the skull of the undead lizardfolk and the thick bones all glimmered in a blue light before it crumbled to the ground. The tiefling began casting a spell with his finger directed at one of the charging skeletons that swung at Ojas.

The shaman nimbly dodged a deathblow from a stone axe aimed at his head while a club bashed into his right shoulder. The third, gripping a greatsword with both his hands, stabbed down at the shaman but only caught a bit of his arm carving a bleeding wound but doing no real damage.

The white ray sent the club wielding skeleton flying before the bones fell apart and scattered across the room.

Quancy screamed as he moved near the table, "Tryshra, fight godsdammit."

Tryshra only stood, still grasping her head almost oblivious to the combat around her.

Rose touched the end of her stone necklace, quickly reciting a prayer to the dormant land pleading with it for help. As the small plant hidden behind the darkness stretched out of his container, Rose thanked him for hearing her. The plant swiftly grew thorny vines and reached into the shadows.

Ojas swept his spear to his right, caving in the knee cap of the club bearer and sent it tumbling to the ground from its lack of balance. The stone axe carrier swung his heavy weapon down at the squatting shaman. The weapon rang sharply on the chainmail armor. Although he knew that the weapon hadn't pierce though his skin the breath that flew out of him felt worse than the wound from the arrow.

Arthas raised her hand out of the shadow bog waving it toward the door. As the twin stone doors flung open, Gwyn who had taken refuge under Arthas' oversized bed ran head down through the wave of fighting and out of the doorway. A moment after she raced out of the door a huge one arm black steel creature entered it.

Rose's eyes grew twice their size as she ran from the doorway next to the teifling.

Ojas' back was away from the door and his attention more on survival then on the comings and goings of those around him. Deftly he blocked a slash from the remaining skeleton and jabbed at it with his spear sending the weapon clear through one of the ribs and an arm's length pass it. As the undead lizard lifted his axe, Ojas cursed under his breath and released his blade and took a step back dodging the cross slash.

Rose could hear the spellcaster in the shadows calling on the powers of another spell and before Quancy could even start another spell, a giant, bony ebony hand swept from the darkness toward Rose. The druidess' first thought was to run but the shiny black construct stood in the doorway and as the long index finger of the hand soared toward her, Rose closed her eyes and bit her lip nearly drawing blood.

As she opened her eyes she felt nothing and looked down and was only a tear in her robe over the left side of her chest, just over her heart.

"Must be an amateur," Quancy teased as he waved his staff and shouted a word of command send another ray, this on fiery orange at the black steel construct.

The mindless creatures eyes glowed in his head which hover a few inches from the rest of his body paranormally. Then with in a black blur it bashed its fist into the ground send a wave of dark energy coursing through the room knocking everyone aside from itself and Tryshra including Arthas off their feet. The warrior looked up at the missing limb of the creature with a gaze of curiosity. Then screaming so loud that the door shook she sprinted the handful of steps to the creature and punch at its chest sending it flying a few feet backwards.

Rose rolled over and knelt on one knee looking at the spellcaster as the tendrils of shadows fell along with the thorn covered tendrils that had wrapped around the woman.

Blood racing over her arms and legs Arthas laughed as she said, "You are a doomed child."

Somehow Rose knew she was speaking to her. Rose could feel warm blood on her hand but refused to look down as the woman continued.

"My spell worked perfectly… you will never know love though you will long for it and all those who come near you will fall in your wake. If you live to see a thousand winters you see thousand times as many die and all their blood will be on your hands."

"Shut…up," Quancy said gingerly sat up and pulled a rust called bag out of one his numerous belt pouches. He stretched three of his fingers in the palm sized bag and revealed a small brown ball and hurled it as hard as he could across the room toward Arthas. As the ball hit the ground it erupted into a ball of black fur that sprout four thick legs and a watering maw. Rose stood up inquiring the creature.

The black bear bite at the spellcaster's arm as Qunacy pointed at the woman not saying a woman.

"Rose," the teifling demanded, "We need to take her down… she'll kill us all if we don't."

Rose nodded and loaded her last stone in her sling but as soon as she had the spellcaster pulled at a small white piece from her robe and hurled it end over end at the druidess and tiefling.

"Not the only one with tricks up your sleeves, demon," Arthas spat as she flung another one at the floor near her.

A pair of hulking skeletons of creatures that Rose had never seen before stood before her. One kicked the bear of the spellcaster while the other slammed a bony fist into Quancy sending him crashing into the stone wall behind them.

Rose duck and rolled out of the way as the same creature swatted at her. Rose felt the ground shake and for a brief moment saw a flash of blue light burst through the open door. The next thing Rose saw was the white of the skeletal creature's hand pressing down on her… all Rose saw next was darkness.

* * *

"This place is unhallowed," a voice that the druidess had never before spoke in the darkness as her eyes tried to open.

"Aye," another voice, hoarse and definitely male replied, "What are you going to report to the Wizard's Council?"

"Exactly what I've seen," the velvety voice spoke as Rose forced her eyes open. She was lying on her belly and only saw the black marble ground of the hallway she had entered the spellcaster's room in.

The gruff voice muttered something inaudible.

"The whole town was deceived, Maximanus," the silky voice said almost admiringly, "And if you had not acted who knows what would have happened."

Rose's voice stirred as she tried to rolled over but couldn't. Then she noticed that her arms and legs were bound to the small of her back the same way some farmers tied livestock.

"The little one is coming out of it," the gruff voice said.

"Then untie her," the softer voice demanded.

"Not until I find out that she is not one of them."

"You are not even aware of what one of them actually is."

"All the more reason…"

Rose mumbled, "I am… Rose… I wanted to find out… what… was happening."

The gruff voice asked as he turned the girl over sending waves of pain through her body, "How did you know what was happening here?"

"I saw it… a man was captured and led here… I needed to find out if he was okay. His name is… Cooper," Rose said remembering the visions she saw from his horse's mind. And the horse's tracking of her owner back to the opposite side of the tower on the river.

"You mean his name was Cooper," the gruff voice said. "He was murdered by your high priestess."

Rose swallowed trying to get air to her lungs, "I… I don't worship here."

"Where do you worship," the soft voice asked firmly.

That was a question that Rose had to think about. If worship meant respect, than she had done it here. As a druid any place she felt a connection to nature was a place for reverence.

"We asked you a question," the gruff one said as he pressed his boot on her chest over the tore piece of her robe and the pink scar that had form beneath it.

"I worship everywhere the Great Mother touches," Rose said and coughed up a piece of curdled blood.

"She worships Chaunteau… let her up," the soft voice pleaded.

"She's probably lying," the gruff voice man spoke as he leaned over giving the druidess a full view of the coiling purple dragon racing across the man's silver armor.

The other person leaned over as well. Rose recognized the seven starred pattern on the person armor and gargled, "Mystra?"

The Mystran nodded, "And judging from leaf designs in the sod clumps on your necklace I assume you are a cleric of Chaunteau."

Rose nodded, "Not a cleric… just a druid of little knowledge."

"Judging from the scene left throughout what's left of this temple I'd assume you were a circle leader," the soft voiced Mystran smiled. "Max, let her loose now. We need all who are able to search this place over… with a malevolent portal like the one in the next room only Oghma himself could have the knowledge of what this place could possess."

Max grumbled quickly as he untied Rose.

"I swear if she makes one threatening move toward any of my men, Arini," Max oathed to Mystran.

"I won't," Rose said meekly. "We found some notes in Fembrys' room."

"Which one is Fembrys," Max commanded.

"The… ummm… large one. He should have in the room by the stairs," Rose said immediately.

"He has been taken in for questioning," Arini informed the druidess.

Rose nodded not knowing what that truly meant, "Qunacy should have the notes… he is the… one with horns."

"The demonblood was with you?" Max nearly spat on the druidess.

"Aye," Rose said, "He came to rescue the woman with an iron arm."

Arini's lips curled, "The woman that killed a third of Max's men and helped the caped woman that was commanding the shadesteel golem get away."

Rose head spun at the flood of information, "What's a…," she began than figured it was whatever the large metal creature was, "Tryshra… left?"

"Left," Max yelled, "The wench single handedly crushed the skulls of a dozen of my men then somehow teleported away with that cleric."

Rose heart ached with every beat for a several moments of silence.

"Did you find anyone else alive in the room with me?" Rose asked tentatively.

"Two males," Arini reported, "The teifling you spoke of and a large mariner."

"Are they…"

"They were both wounded gravely but they should recover in due time," Arini interrupted, "They are being healed at the Watch House… hopefully they are being treated better than you are."

Max shrugged, "Children lost their fathers and wives were widowed today… this no time for courtesy to those who ain't earned it."

"Rose," Arini said as she tried to ignore the Purple Dragon Knight, "What else did you find out about this place."

Rose told them about the people that seemed to not be themselves and the priest's actions toward here and his attempt to keep her at the temple while briefly describing how the four of them fought through the temple to where they were found.

The two armored figures stood in silence just staring at one another.

Rose looked over to the ring of purple surrounding a black space in which the wall ended and asked, "What is that?"

Arini sighed, "A holy symbol."

"But Mystra's holy symbol is…" Rose began.

"That ain't Mystra's symbol, you fool… y'ain't too bright to not notice Shar's mark at first glance are you."

"Oh," Rose mumbled and tried to recall what she knew of Shar.

"She is the Goddess of Darkness and Secrets… and the rival of Mystra," Arini said softly as she touched the girl's shoulder, "Her one passion in existence is to tear down the Weave and make it her own."

The dark confusion in Rose head immediately clear and she understood what was happening and why she was treated how she was by Max, "They were killing mages."

Arini nodded but said nothing.

Max added, "But there must have been a greater purpose to it… that is what we have to find out."

"Constal Maximanus," a heavily winded man practically the same height as Rose raced through the dark portal and to the trio, "Report… there's a tributary further down leading down river… I think this was just a holding camp for something larger. There are several enclosures further down past the black vortex. We have also captured a man that works on the boats they sent out from here and I found a map."

The small man handed it to the Constal. Arini looked over Max's shoulder.

"A map of the swamp… odd," Arini said.

"The Vast Swamp," Rose asked inquisitively.

"Aye," the map finder said, "But it doesn't have directions, just a few locations, I thought that Arini might…"

"I am the Constal of Wheeloon not War Wizard Arini," the man snapped and waved his hand, "You are dismissed, Boreas."

The man nodded, turned on his heels and raced through the dark portal again.

"Your men must love you," Ira rolled her eyes. A pair of men carried a headless form from the room opposite of the one the woman had used as her bedroom.

"My men respect me… love is meaningless," Max stared at the map.

"Women from here to Dambrath must be lining up to date you," Arini spat.

Max grumbled.

Rose raise up onto her tiptoes to try to get a glance at the map and the Constal rebuffed her, "This is no child's toy."

"But I live in the swamp," she said.

Four unblinking eyes glared at her.

"Honestly," she placed her palms over her shoulders facing them, "I am… was… a member of a group that maintained the swamp."

"So… you are a druid of the Vast Swamp?" Arini asked still unblinking.

"Aye."

Max dumbfoundedly lowered the map so Rose could see it.

Rose had a basic understanding of reading maps as it was one of her duties to aid in sending messages and on occasion some of the location needed to be mapped to find since their paths were obscured in one way or another. She recognized many of the places that most could, the Temple they were at and Wheeloon proper, the Hullack Trail and the Way of the Manticore.

Rose pointed to a small skull near the middle of the map, "That is the Skull Staff."

"What," the pair responded in unison.

"It is just inside the swamp and marks the territory of the Dragonscales," Rose said quickly.

"Okay," Ira said confused. "And they would be."

"A large tribe of lizardfolk that hold most of the western half of the swamp," Rose said focusing on the map and tracing approximately their hold, "The North is most controlled by smaller ones called poison dusk… the Claws of the Flooded Forest is the largest group and the East is too dangerous even for lizardfolk… many say that beholders breed there."

Arini smiled. Max guffawed.

"What does this mean though," Rose said as quirked the corner of her mouth thinking, "There are no directions and no path."

"Vellum perhaps," Arina said louder than she expected.

"Aye indeed," Max said and then bellowed so loud Rose's her rang for several heartbeats, "Purple Dragons to me!"

As the pattering of feet clambered through the building and race from every direction to their leader and as they all came to a rest crunched together like fish in a wharf Max gave out specific direction and informed the men of what they needed to look for. Several men gave him reports of their findings but nothing seemed extraordinary. Rose knew this scene all too well but the 'Constal' in her memories was her father. Secretly she wondered how each of them could sleep with the knowledge that not only had they sent people to their deaths but that come the renewing day they will have to again.

"Now, Rose," Max said quietly, "We need you to go back to Wheeloon without a scene."

Rose started to nod as felt a thick hand grasp her jaw and the other wrap around her body. In a span of just a few moments she was clasped in cold metal that seemed to drain what little energy she had.

"Max," Arina shouted, "That was uncalled for and…"

"I am in charge here and Rose is an enemy combatant until Lord Redsarp says otherwise."


End file.
